04iincoln  Conscript 


r     reene 
c ^ 


GIFT   OF 
Win-   A.    Setchell 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 


A  LINCOLN 
CONSCRIPT 

BY  HOMER  GREENE 

ILLUSTRATED   BY  T.  DE  THULSTRUP 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK  :  THE 
RIVERSIDE  PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE 


COPYRIGHT,    1909,    BY   HOMER  G 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


Published  April  IQOQ 


ft. 


PRINTED  IN  THE  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 


I.  "THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS"  1 

II.  NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG  27 

III.  A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN  52 

IV.  THE  DRAFTED  COPPERHEAD  77 
V.  AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST  100 

VI.  A  DESPERATE  DECISION  122 

VII.  OFF  TO  THE  WAR  143 

VIII.  A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT  166 

IX.  WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  191 

X.  FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLAG  215 

XI.  THE  GREAT  TRAGEDY  238 

XII.  THE  WELCOME  HOME  260 


M177916 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

CHAPTER  I 


THE   SINS    OP  THE   FATHERS 


" 


ON  the  second  day  of  July  in  the  year 
1863  the  Civil  War  in  America  was 
at  its  height.  Late  in  the  preceding  month 
Lee  had  turned  his  face  northward,  and, 
with  an  army  of  a  hundred  thousand  Con- 
federate soldiers  at  his  back,  had  marched 
up  into  Pennsylvania.  There  was  little  to 
hinder  his  advance.  Refraining,  by  reason 
of  strict  orders,  from  wanton  destruction 
of  property,  his  soldiers  nevertheless  lived 
on  the  rich  country  through  which  they 
passed.  York  and  Carlisle  were  in  their 
grasp.  Harris  burg  was  but  a  day's  march 
away,  and  now,  on  this  second  day  of  July, 
flushed  with  fresh  victories,  they  had 
turned  and  were  giving  desperate  battle, 
through  the  streets  and  on  the  hills  of 

1 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

Gettysburg,  to  the  Union  armies  that  had 
followed  them. 

The  old  commonwealth  was  stirred  as 
she  had  not  been  stirred  before  since  the 
fall  of  Sumter.  Every  town  and  village  in 
the  state  responded  quickly  to  the  govern- 
or's call  for  emergency  troops  to  defend 
the  capital  city.  Mount  Hermon,  already 
depleted  by  generous  early  enlistments,  and 
by  the  draft  of  1862,  gathered  together  the 
bulk  of  the  able-bodied  men  left  in  the  vil- 
lage and  its  surroundings,  and  sent  them 
forth  in  defense  of  the  commonwealth.  Not 
that  Mount  Hermon  was  in  especial  dan- 
ger from  Lee's  invasion,  far  from  it.  Up  in 
the  northeastern  corner  of  the  state,  on  a 
plateau  of  one  of  the  low  foot-hills  of  the 
Moosic  range,  sheltered  by  the  mountains 
at  its  back,  it  was  well  protected,  both  by 
reason  of  distance  and  location,  from  the 
advancing  foe.  But  Mount  Hermon  was 
intensely  patriotic.  In  the  days  preceding 
the  Revolution  the  sturdy  pioneers  from 
Connecticut  had  met  the  equally  sturdy 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

settlers  from  the  domain  of  Penn,  and  on 
this  plateau  they  had  fought  out  their  con- 
tentions and  settled  their  differences;  the 
son  of  the  Pennamite  had  married  the 
daughter  of  the  Yankee ;  and  the  new  race, 
with  love  of  country  tingeing  every  drop  of 
its  blood  a  deeper  red,  had  stayed  on  and 
possessed  the  land.  So,  on  this  July  day, 
when  the  armies  of  North  and  South  were 
striving  and  struggling  with  each  other  in 
bloody  combat  back  and  forth  across  the 
plain  and  up  the  hills  of  Gettysburg, 
Mount  Hermon's  heart  beat  fast.  But  it 
was  not  for  themselves  that  these  people 
were  anxious.  It  was  for  the  fathers, 
husbands,  sons,  lovers  in  that  army  with 
which  Meade,  untried  and  unproven,  was 
endeavoring  to  match  the  strategy  and 
strength  of  Lee.  News  of  the  first  day's 
skirmishing  had  reached  the  village,  and 
it  was  felt  that  a  great  battle  was  immir- 
nent.  In  the  early  evening,  while  the 
women  were  still  busy  at  their  household 
tasks,  the  men  gathered  at  the  post-office 

3 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

and  the  stores,  eager  for  late  news, 
anxious  to  discuss  the  situation  as  they 
had  learned  it.  In  the  meantime  the  boys 
of  the  town  had  congregated  on  the  vil- 
lage green  to  resume  the  military  drills 
which,  with  more  or  less  frequency,  they 
had  carried  on  during  the  summer.  These 
drills  were  not  wholly  without  serious  in- 
tent. It  was  play,  indeed;  but,  out  of  the 
ranks  of  these  boys,  three  of  the  older  ones 
had  already  gone  to  the  front  to  fight  real 
battles ;  and  it  was  felt,  by  the  men  of  the 
town,  that  the  boys  could  not  be  too 
thoroughly  imbued  with  the  military  spirit. 
So,  on  this  July  evening,  wakened  into  new 
ardor  by  the  news  from  Gettysburg,  they 
had  gathered  to  resume  their  nightly  work 
—  and  play. 

There  were  thirty-three  of  them,  ranging 
in  years  all  the  way  from  eight  to  eighteen. 
They  were  eager  and  enthusiastic.  And  the 
light  of  the  low  sun,  shining  red  on  their 
faces,  disclosed  a  spirit  of  earnestness 
among  them,  as  well  as  that  appreciation 
4 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

of  sport  common  to  all  American  boys.  At 
the  command  to  fall  in  there  was  much 
pushing  and  jostling,  much  striving  for 
desirable  places,  and  even  the  young  cap- 
tain, with  great  show  of  authority,  could 
not  quite  adjust  all  differences  to  the  com- 
plete satisfaction  of  his  men. 

Before  the  confusion  had  wholly  ceased, 
and  while  there  were  still  awkward  gaps  in 
the  ranks,  a  tall,  straight,  shy-mannered  boy 
of  seventeen,  who  had  remained  hitherto 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  group,  quietly 
slipped  into  one  of  the  vacant  places. 

The  ranks  being  finally  formed,  the  or- 
derly sergeant  stepped  out  in  front  of  the 
company  to  call  the  roll.  By  some  inadver- 
tence he  had  lost  or  mislaid  his  list  of 
names,  and  for  the  moment  he  was  at  a  loss 
what  to  do.  But  his  quick  wit  came  to  his 
rescue,  and,  beginning  at  the  right  of  the 
line,  he  called  the  names  of  those  who  were 
under  his  eye. 

"Albright!" 

"Here." 

5 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

"Valentine!" 
"Here." 

"Bannister!" 

"Here." 

It  was  the  tall  straight  boy  who  had 
slipped  quietly  into  the  ranks  who  re- 
sponded to  this  last  name.  Down  the  line 
there  went  a  little  murmur  of  surprise,  and 
before  the  sergeant  could  call  the  next 
name,  one  of  his  soldiers  stepped  one  pace 
to  the  front  and  struck  his  hand  violently 
against  his  breast. 

The  astonished  sergeant  ceased  suddenly 
to  call  the  roll. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Sam?"  he 
inquired. 

"I  want  to  know,"  said  Sam,  resentment 
ringing  in  his  voice,  "what  right  Bob  Ban- 
nister has  to  be  in  this  company." 

"Why  ain't  he  got  a  right?"  responded 
the  sergeant. 

"Because  he's  a  traitor,"  replied  the  in- 
dignant Sam. 

"And  his  father's  a  copperhead,"  added 
6 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHERS 

another  fledgeling  soldier,  stepping  also 
one  pace  to  the  front.  Then  came  from  the 
ranks  generally  a  chorus  of  protest  against 
the  admission  of  the  tall  straight  youth  to 
the  privileges  of  the  drill. 

The  sergeant,  turning  appealingly  to  the 
captain,  who  was  standing  with  folded 
arms  at  some  little  distance,  said  depre- 
catingly:  "It's  none  o'  my  business.  All  I 
got  to  do  is  to  call  the  roll.  I  don't  muster 


'em  in.': 


Whereupon  the  captain,  fifteen  years  of 
age,  took  the  matter  up. 

"  Let  private  Bannister  step  to  the  front," 
he  commanded. 

The  accused  boy  fell  out  of  the  rear 
rank,  passed  to  the  left  of  the  line,  and  so  on 
to  the  front. 

"Speak  for  yourself,  Bob,"  he  said. 
'*  You  're  charged  with  being  a  traitor." 

"It's  not  true,"  replied  the  boy  quietly 
but  firmly,  his  face  flushing  and  paling  by 
turns. 

"Well,  what  about  your  father?"  cried 
7 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

Sam.   "Ain't  he  said  't  this  war's  a  failure 
and  't  Abe  Lincoln's  a  fraud?" 

"An'  ain't  he  the  biggest  copperhead  in 
Mount  Hermon  township?"  piped  up  a 
small  boy  on  the  extreme  left. 

Whereupon  there  was  another  chorus 
of  denunciation,  and  a  half-dozen  boys 
shouted  at  once:  "We  don't  want  any  son 
of  a  copperhead  in  this  company!" 

"Shut  up,  you  fellows!"  exclaimed  the 
captain,  "or  I'll  have  every  mother's  son  of 
you  arrested  for  breach  of  discipline,  an' 
shut  you  up  in  the  guard-house  on  bread 
an'  water,  every  one  of  you.  Now,  let's  get 
at  this  thing  orderly.  We'll  give  Bob  a  fair 
hearing  an'  then  decide  whether  we  want 
him  or  not." 

"Yes,"  added  Sam,  "le's  court-martial 
'im.  That 's  the  way  to  settle  his  hash." 

The  idea  of  court-martialing  the  objec- 
tionable applicant  for  military  privileges 
met  with  instant  approval  on  the  part  of  the 
company.  Whereupon  the  captain  at  once 
made  his  appointments  for  the  purpose. 
8 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

"You,  Brilly  —  Lieutenant  Brill,  you  be 
judge-advocate  general;  you,  Sergeant 
Davis  and  Corporal  Guild,  you  be  assistant 
judge-advocate  general ;  you,  Sam  Powers, 
you  be  prosecuting  attorney,  and  you,  Pri- 
vate Grimstone,  you  defend  the  prisoner. 
All  three  of  you  sit  down  on  the  bench 
under  this  tree  an'  hear  the  witnesses." 

"Aw,  shucks!"  exclaimed  a  disgusted 
youth,  leaving  the  ranks  and  walking  away. 
;<You  fellows  are  too  smart.  If  you  don't 
want  'im,  kick  'im  out  an'  done  with  it,  an' 
you'll  kick  out  the  best  soldier  in  the  com- 
pany. Court-martial  snakes !  Aw,  shucks!" 

"You,  Bill  Hinkle,"  retorted  the  cap- 
tain, "you're  discharged  in  disgrace  for  in- 
subordination. Now,  boys,  come  on.  Oh, 
I  forgot!  Break  ranks,  march!" 

But  the  ranks  were  already  broken  be- 
yond immediate  repair,  and  the  crowd 
surged  toward  the  bench  on  which  the  mem- 
bers of  the  military  trial  court  were  already 
seated.  Witnesses  were  at  once  called  to 
prove  what  every  one  knew,  that  Bob 

9 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

Bannister's  father  was  an  open  sympa- 
thizer with  the  South,  that  he  had  declared 
the  war  to  be  a  mistake  and  a  failure  and 
Abraham  Lincoln  to  be  a  fraud.  Then 
Bob's  lawyer  called  for  witnesses  to  come 
to  Bob's  defense;  but  no  one  came.  His 
cause  was  too  unpopular.  So  the  attorney 
called  on  Bob  himself. 

"Now  you  just  stand  up  here,"  he  said, 
"before  these  judges,  an'  make  a  clean 
breast  o'  the  whole  business,  an'  throw 
yourself  on  the  mercy  of  this  honorable 
court;  an'  don't  you  tell  no  lies  because  we 
won't  have  it;  do  you  hear?" 

Thus  commanded  by  his  own  counsel, 
Bob  stood  up  to  face  his  accusers.  Al- 
though he  was  one  of  the  oldest  boys  pre- 
sent, and  capable,  both  by  reason  of  his 
bigness  and  his  mental  ability,  of  being  their 
leader,  yet  his  natural  diffidence  and  his 
unfortunate  paternal  connection  had  kept 
him  in  the  background  during  the  entire 
course  of  the  war.  In  this  mock  trial  he 
saw  no  humor.  To  him  it  was  very  real  and 
10 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHERS 

of  much  moment.  He  felt  that  the  time  was 
come  when  he  should  either  be  vindicated 
as  a  loyal  citizen,  fit  to  associate  with  his 
fellows,  or  else  shut  out  permanently  from 
their  companionship.  His  face  was  very 
pale  as  he  began  to  speak,  his  dark  eyes 
were  suffused  with  emotion,  and  a  stray 
lock  of  his  black  hair  hung  damp  across  his 
forehead. 

" I'm  no  traitor,"  he  began.  "It  's  not 
right  to  call  me  a  traitor.  And  I'm  no 
copperhead  either.  I  believe  in  the  war.  I 
believe  in  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  I  —  I 
love  the  flag." 

He  turned  his  eyes  up  toward  the  stars 
and  stripes  drooping  lazily  from  the  summit 
of  the  great  pole  planted  on  the  village 
green. 

"  Well,  ain't  your  father  a  copperhead  ?" 
asked  the  prosecuting  lawyer  savagely. 
"An'  ain't  he  talked  ag'inst  Lincoln,  an' 
ag'inst  the  soldiers,  an'  ag'inst  the  war,  an' 
ag'inst  the  govament,  an'  ag'inst  —  ag'inst 
the  whole  business?  Ain't  he?  An'  ain't 
11 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

you  his  son,  an'  ain't  you  got  to  mind  him  ? 
An'  don't  you  believe  he  tells  the  truth? 
Do  you  s'pose  your  father 'd  lie?  Answer 
me  that  now.  Do  you  think  he'd  lie?" 

The  prosecuting  attorney  turned  toward 
his  auditors  with  a  smile  and  a  nod,  as 
much  as  to  say:  "That's  a  clincher,  I've 
got  him  now." 

But  by  this  time  Bob's  diffidence  had 
disappeared.  The  under  part  of  his  nature 
was  roused  and  ready  to  assert  itself.  He 
lifted  his  head,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  as  he 
looked  around  him. 

"My  father  is  no  liar,"  he  replied.  "He 
says  what  he  believes  to  be  true  about  the 
war.  Maybe  he's  mistaken.  That's  not 
for  me  to  say,  nor  for  you.  But  so  far  as 
I'm  concerned,  I  tell  you  again  that  I'm 
loyal.  I  stand  by  the  President,  and  by  the 
government,  and  by  the  flag ;  and  some  day 
I'll  fight  for  it,  and  I'll  do  things  for  it  that 
you,  Sam  Powers,  and  you,  Jim  Brill,  and 
all  the  rest  of  you  would  n't  dare  to  do." 

He  stood  erect,  with  flushed  face  and 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

flashing  eyes,  and  for  a  brief  moment  his 
accusers  were  silent.  Then,  gently  at  first, 
but  increasing  soon  to  a  storm  of  protest, 
the  voices  of  his  companions  were  heard  in 
reply.  In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  the 
judge-advocate  general  held  up  his  hand 
for  silence. 

"It  appears  to  the  court"  —  he  began, 
but  a  voice  interrupted  him :  — 

* '  Question !   Put  the  question ! ' ' 

With  little  knowledge  of  parliamentary 
rules,  and  still  less  of  proceedings  before  a 
court-martial,  the  judge-advocate  general 
and  his  associates  looked  a  trifle  dazed. 

"Question!  I  call  for  the  question,"  de- 
manded the  person  with  insistent  voice. 
"Shall  Bob  Bannister  be  allowed  to  be  a 
member  of  this  company?" 

The  judge-advocate  general  pulled  him- 
self together  and  slowly  repeated  the  ques- 
tion :  — 

"  Shall  Bob  Bannister  be  allowed  to  be  a 
member  of  this  company?  All  you  that 
want  him  say  Yes." 

13 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

Three  feeble  and  uncertain  voices  re- 
sponded in  the  affirmative. 

"And  all  you  that  don't  want  him  say 
No." 

The  chorus  of  noes  was  triumphantly 
loud. 

"The  noes  win,"  declared  the  judge-ad- 
vocate general;  and  the  captain  added, 
"The  court's  adjourned  sign  dee." 

"Aw,  shucks!"  exclaimed  Bill  Hinkle, 
now  in  disgrace  himself  and  therefore  more 
in  sympathy  with  Bob.  'You  fellows 
know  a  lot,  don't  you !  You  're  smart,  ain't 
you!  Wy,  Bob  Bannister's  the  best  man 
you  got.  I'll  back  him  to  lick  any  three  of 
you,  with  one  hand  tied  behind  'is  back,  by 
jimminy!  You've  made  regular  nincom- 
poops o'  yourselves,  you  have.  Aw,  shucks ! " 

And  the  deeply  and  doubly  disgusted 
one  walked  away. 

So  did  Bob  Bannister  walk  away.  He 
went  with  bent  head  and  breaking  heart. 
To  be  denied  the  right  to  join  with  his  com- 
panions in  any  demonstration  looking  to  his 
14 


THE  SINS   OF  THE  FATHERS 

country's  glory  or  welfare  was,  to  him,  a 
tragedy.  His  was  one  of  those  natures  en- 
dowed at  birth  with  a  spirit  of  patriotism. 
From  the  time  when  he  could  first  read  he 
had  absorbed  the  history  of  his  country  and 
her  heroes.  No  colors  had  ever  shone  be- 
fore his  eyes  more  brilliant  and  beautiful 
than  the  red,  white,  and  blue  of  his  country's 
flag.  With  an  intuition  far  beyond  his 
years,  he  had  grasped  the  meaning  and 
foreseen  the  consequences  of  a  dissolution 
of  the  compact  that  bound  the  states  to- 
gether. And  when,  at  last,  the  storm  broke, 
when  Sumter  fell,  when  Bull  Run  came, 
an  awakening  calamity,  he  threw  his  whole 
heart  and  soul  into  the  cause  of  the  North, 
and  from  that  time  on  he  lived  in  spirit, 
and  would  have  died  in  body,  with  the 
Union  armies,  fighting,  that  the  old  flag 
and  all  that  it  symbolized  might  prevail. 
Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  his  father,  with 
whom  he  lived,  of  whom  he  was  proud  and 
fond,  to  whom  he  was  loyally  obedient, 
was  an  outspoken  sympathizer  with  the 
15 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

Southern  Confederacy.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
strain  of  Southern  blood  in  his  veins,  per- 
haps it  was  the  underlying  aristocracy  of 
feeling  of  those  whose  ancestors  have 
owned  slaves,  perhaps  it  was  the  clear  logic 
of  his  mind  running  in  the  narrow  grooves 
that  genius  so  often  hollows  out,  that  led 
Rhett  Bannister  into  his  passionate  sym- 
pathy with  the  South.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
he  was  no  coward.  What  he  was,  what  he 
felt,  what  he  thought,  was  known  of  all 
men.  Opposition  could  not  conquer  him, 
opprobrious  epithets  could  not  cow  him, 
nor  could  ostracism  silence  his  eloquent 
tongue. 

Notwithstanding  the  general  and  fervent 
loyalty  of  the  community  in  which  Bannis- 
ter lived,  there  were,  nevertheless,  among 
the  people,  those  who  felt  that  the  war  was 
a  mistake  and  a  failure,  that  the  issue  had 
been  tried  out  at  an  awful  sacrifice  with  but 
indifferent  success,  and  that  now  peace 
should  be  had  on  any  reasonable  terms. 
These  were  the  conservatives,  the  loco- 
16 


THE   SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

focos.  Then  there  were  those  who,  deeply 
sympathizing  with  the  South  from  the 
beginning  of  the  trouble,  were  ready  to 
make  any  legal  opposition  to  a  further 
prosecution  of  the  war  by  the  Federal  gov- 
ernment, using  politics  and  public  speech 
as  their  strongest  weapons.  These  were 
classed  in  the  North  as  copperheads.  Then 
there  were  still  others  who,  saying  little  and 
clothing  their  conduct  with  secrecy,  gave 
what  aid,  comfort,  and  active  cooperation 
they  could  to  the  enemies  of  the  Federal 
government.  These  were  plainly  spoken  of 
as  traitors.  Indeed,  secret  organizations 
sprang  up  in  the  North  and  West,  with  their 
lodges,  officers,  grips,  and  passwords,  hav- 
ing for  their  object  a  concentrated  effort  to 
undermine  the  patriotic  efforts  of  the  citi- 
zens of  the  North  and  the  administration  at 
Washington,  and  to  aid  indirectly  in  the 
defeat  of  the  Union  armies  in  the  field. 
Perhaps  the  most  deeply  rooted  organiza- 
tion of  the  kind  in  the  loyal  states  was 
known  as  the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle. 
17 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

But  Rhett  Bannister  was  not  one  of  their 
members.  He  despised  the  stab  in  the  dark, 
and  all  secret  and  unfair  methods  of  war- 
fare. Frank,  eloquent,  and  outspoken,  he 
never  hesitated  to  say  and  to  do  freely  and 
openly  that  which  he  deemed  to  be  right, 
regardless  of  the  opinions,  the  condemna- 
tion, or  even  the  hate  of  his  neighbors. 

It  was  to  this  father  and  to  his  home  that 
the  boy,  refused  admission  into  the  patriotic 
ranks  of  his  comrades,  now  started  on  his 
way.  At  the  edge  of  the  village  he  met 
Sarah  Jane  Stark.  There  are  some  people 
who  are  always  known,  not  only  to  their 
friends  but  to  the  public  also,  by  their  full 
names.  Sarah  Jane  Stark  was  one  of  them. 
She  had  lived  in  Mount  Hermon  all  her 
life.  How  long  that  was  it  would  be  ungal- 
lant  to  say,  had  not  Miss  Stark  herself  de- 
clared boastfully  that  she  had  come  within 
fifteen  years  of  living  in  two  centuries.  With 
no  children  of  her  own,  she  was  a  mother 
to  all  the  children  in  the  village.  Kind- 
hearted,  sharp-tongued,  a  terror  to  evil- 
18 


THE   SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

doers,  "a  very  present  help  in  trouble"  to 
all  the  worthy  who  needed  her  assistance, 
the  social  arbiter  of  the  town,  she  was  the 
most  loved  as  well  as  the  most  feared  wo- 
man in  the  community.  When  she  met 
Bob  in  the  footpath  at  the  roadside,  she 
looked  at  him  sharply. 

"Look  here,  Bob  Bannister,"  she  said, 
"you've  been  crying.  Or  if  you  haven't, 
you ' ve  been  so  close  to  it  there  was  n't  any 
fun  in  it.  Now  you  just  go  ahead  and  tell 
me  what  the  matter  is." 

Bob  knew  from  previous  experience,  on 
many  occasions,  that  it  was  absolutely  use- 
less to  attempt  evasion  with  Sarah  Jane 
Stark.  Much  as  his  sensitive  nature  re- 
belled against  complaining  of  any  slight 
that  his  fellows  had  put  upon  him,  he  felt 
that  he  must  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to 
his  questioner. 

"Why,  they  put  me  out  of  the  company, 

Miss  Stark,"  he  said.  "I  wanted  to  drill  in 

the  company  with  the  other  fellows  and 

they  would  n't  let  me.  That's  all.  I  s'pose 

19 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

they  had  a  right  to  do  it ;  of  course  they  had 
a  right." 

"Put  you  out  of  the  company,  did  they  ? 
And  what  did  they  put  you  out  for,  I'd  like 
to  know  ?  Are  n't  you  as  good  a  soldier  as 
any  of  them?" 

"Well,  that  wasn't  exactly  it,  Miss 
Stark.  They  seemed  to  think  that  because 
—  well,  they  thought  I  was  n't  loyal." 

"Thought  you  were  n't  loyal !  Well,  that 
is  a  note !  Why,  you  —  oh,  I  see !  On  ac- 
count of  your  father,  eh  ?  Yes,  I  see." 

Miss  Stark  tapped  her  foot  impatiently 
on  the  hard  soil  of  the  side-path,  and  looked 
off  toward  the  blue  sky-line  of  the  Moosic 
range,  behind  which  the  sun  had  already 
gone  down. 

"'The  sins  of  the  fathers  shall  be  visited 
upon  the  children,"'  she  said  musingly. 
Then  she  turned  again  to  Bob. 

"You're  no  copperhead  yourself,  are 
you?"  she  inquired.  'You're  not  even  a 
locofoco,  are  you?" 

"No,  indeed,  Miss  Stark!  There  isn't 
20 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

one  of  those  boys  that  believes  in  putting 
down  the  rebellion  more  than  I  do,  that 
loves  the  old  flag  more  than  I  do,  or  would 
fight  for  it,  or  for  the  government,  or  for 
Abraham  Lincoln,  quicker  than  I  would  if 
I  had  the,  chance  —  Miss  Stark,  I'm  loyal, 
I'm  loyal!" 

He  stood  erect,  eyes  flashing,  the  color 
back  in  his  cheeks,  the  soul  within  him 
speaking.  Sarah  Jane  Stark  went  up  to 
him  and  put  her  arm  about  his  shoulders. 

"Good!"  she  cried.  "You're  the  right 
sort.  I  wish  Abe  Lincoln  had  a  hundred 
thousand  at  the  front  just  like  you.  Now 
you  leave  that  matter  about  the  company 
to  me.  I'll  see  those  boys,  the  little  brats, 
and  if  they  don't  take  you  in  I'll  — " 

"No,  Miss  Stark,  please  don't!  I  could 
n't  go  back  in  now.  I  could  n't  ever  go  in 
after  this.  But  if  the  war  lasts  till  I  get  old 
enough,  I  shall  be  a  real  soldier  in  a  real 
company  some  day." 

"Bully  for  you!" 

It  was  not  a  very  dignified  nor  refined 
21 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

expression ;  but  Sarah  Jane  Stark  was  noted 
for  expressing  herself  forcibly  when  the 
occasion  demanded  it,  and  she  felt  that  this 
was  one  of  the  occasions  that  demanded  it. 

"And,"  she  added,  "you  go  tell  Rhett 
Bannister  for  me,  that  if  he  had  one  thou- 
sandth part  of  the  natural  patriotism  and 
horse-sense  of  his  son  —  No,  you  need  n't 
tell  him;  I'll  tell  him  myself.  I  can  do  it 
better.  You  just  trot  along  home  and  don't 
let  the  conduct  of  those  fool  boys  trouble 
you.  You're  right  and  they're  wrong,  and 
that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

So  Bob  went  on  his  way.  The  Bannister 
home  lay  on  the  old  North  and  South  turn- 
pike road,  a  full  mile  from  the  centre  of  the 
village.  A  very  comfortable  home  it  was, 
too,  neat  and  prosperous  in  appearance, 
with  a  small  and  fertile  farm  behind  the 
commodious  house,  and  a  well-kept  lawn 
in  front.  For  Rhett  Bannister,  theorist 
though  he  was,  was  no  mere  dreamer  of 
dreams,  he  was  a  worker  as  well;  both  the 
fruit  of  his  brain  and  the  labor  of  his  hands 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

being  evident  in  the  comforts  by  which  he 
was  surrounded. 

When  Bob  went  up  the  path  to  the 
porch  he  found  his  father  and  mother  and 
his  six-year-old  sister  all  there,  enjoying  the 
coolness  of  the  evening.  It  was  already  too 
dark  for  either  of  his  parents  to  discover  in 
Bob's  face  any  sign  of  distress,  and  he  did 
not  mention  to  them  his  experiences  of  the 
evening.  But  the  quick  ear  of  his  mother 
caught  the  troubled  cadence  in  his  voice, 
and  she  went  over  and  sat  by  him  and  be- 
gan smoothing  the  hair  back  from  his  fore- 
head. 

"You're  tired,  Robbie,"  she  said,  "and 
it's  been  such  a  warm  day." 

"Did  you  hear  anything  new  up  town 
about  the  Pennsylvania  raid  ?"  inquired  his 
father. 

"Nothing  much,"  replied  the  boy.  "I 
believe  there's  been  some  fighting  around 
Gettysburg,  and  they're  expecting  a  big 
battle  there  to-day." 

'Yes,"  replied  the  man,  "I  suppose  the 
23 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

two  armies  are  facing  each  other  there, 
very  likely  the  slaughter  has  already  begun. 
Perhaps  there'll  be  another  holocaust  like 
Fredericksburg.  Doubtless  thousands  of 
lives  will  be  sacrificed  and  millions  of  money 
squandered  at  Gettysburg,  when  ten  words 
from  the  stiff-necked  incompetents  at  Wash- 
ington would  have  stopped  the  horrible  con- 
flict and  brought  peace  to  the  country 
months  ago." 

Bob  said  nothing,  he  knew  it  was  useless. 
He  had,  on  two  or  three  occasions,  at- 
tempted in  a  feeble  way  to  argue  with  his 
father  questions  pertaining  to  the  war,  but 
he  had  been  fairly  swept  off  his  feet  by  a 
flood  of  logic  and  eloquence,  and  he  had 
found  silence  on  these  matters  to  be  the 
better  part  for  him  to  take  in  the  presence 
of  his  father. 

After  a  few  minutes  the  man  added :  "If, 
even  now,  Lincoln  would  concede  one  half 
of  what  the  South  demands  as  a  plain 
right - 

Bannister  paused.  Somewhere  in  the 
24 


THE   SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS 

darkness  up  the  road  there  was  a  confused 
sound  of  voices.  Then,  from  a  score  of 
lusty  young  throats  there  came  in  on  the 
still  air  of  the  summer  night  the  familiar 
words  of  a  patriotic  song. 

"  My  country,  't  is  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty  —  " 

"It  sounds  good,  Robert,"  said  Rhett 
Bannister.  "But  what's  it  all  about? 
What  does  it  mean?" 

"I  don't  know, father," said  Bob;  "I— I 
guess  it's  just  the  boys  a-marching." 

The  voices  and  the  words  of  the  song 
grew  clearer  and  more  distinct.  Now  the 
steady  tramp  of  marching  feet  could  be 
distinguished.  Then  another  song  broke  in 
upon  the  night. 

'*  John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  grave; 
John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  grave; 
John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  grave; 
But  his  soul  goes  marching  on." 

Loud,    clear,    and    musical    came    the 
"Glory,  glory,  hallelujah!"  chorus;  and, 
25 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

indistinctly  in  the  darkness,  the  figures  of 
the  marching  company  could  be  discerned, 
coming  down  the  road  in  front  of  the  lawn. 

The  expression  on  Rhett  Bannister's  face 
could  not  be  seen,  but  his  voice  was  heavy 
with  indignation  as  he  muttered :  — 

"And  that  same  John  Brown  was  a  fa- 
natic, a  fool,  and  a  murderer,  and  richly 
deserved  his  fate." 

"They  don't  know,  father,"  said  Bob 
apologetically.  "They  sing  it  because  it 
sounds  good." 

Down  by  the  gate  there  was,  for  a  mo- 
ment, an  ominous  silence,  then,  full-vol- 
umed  and  vigorous,  a  new  parody  on  "  John 
Brown's  Body"  was  hurled  across  the 
darkness  toward  the  house  of  the  copper- 
head. 

"We'll  hang  Rhett  Ban'ster  on  a  sour-apple  tree; 
We'll  hang  Rhett  Ban'ster  on  a  sour-apple  tree; 
We'll  hang  Rhett  Ban'ster  on  a  sour-apple  tree; 
As  we  go  marching  on." 


CHAPTER  II 

NEWS   FROM    GETTYSBURG 

AT  the  first  line  of  the  daring  parody 
Rhett  Bannister  and  his  son  both 
sprang  to  their  feet,  the  one  white  with 
sudden  rage,  the  other  stricken  with  indig- 
nation and  alarm.  With  one  step  the  man 
reached  the  edge  of  the  porch,  with  the 
next  he  was  down  on  the  path  on  his  way  to 
the  gate,  to  give  physical  expression  to  his 
wrath.  What  would  have  happened  in  the 
road  can  only  be  conjectured,  had  not  Bob's 
frightened  little  mother  run  to  the  porch- 
steps  and  called  to  her  husband :  — 

"Rhett,  dear!  Rhett,  don't!  Don't 
mind  them.  Come  back,  Rhett,  dear!" 

The  angry  man  stopped  in  his  headlong 
passage  down  the  walk.  There  had  never 
been  a  time  in  all  his  married  life  when  the 
pleading  voice  of  his  wife  had  not  been  suf- 
ficient to  check  any  outburst  of  passion  on 
27 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

his  part.  Daring  and  defiant  to  all  the 
world  beside  when  occasion  prompted  him, 
he  had  always  been  as  tender  and  gentle 
with  her  as  in  the  days  of  their  courtship. 
She  was  down  at  his  side  now,  one  hand  on 
his  arm,  trying  to  soothe  his  outraged  feel- 
ings. 

"They're  mere  boys,Rhett.   They  don't 
know  any  better.   Some  day,  when  they're 
older,  they  '11  regret  it.  And  now  you  '11  have 
nothing  to  regret,  Rhett,  dear,  nothing." 
Up  from  the  road  came  a  defiant  shout: 
"Hurrah  for  Abe  Lincoln!" 
"Down  with  the  copperheads!" 
But,  even  at  the  height  of  his  rage,  with 
the  taunts  and  threats  of  his  tormentors 
ringing  in  his  ears,  Rhett  Bannister  turned 
and  took  pity  on  his  wife,  and  led  her  back 
to  the  porch  with  reassuring  words.    The 
unterrified  boys,  taking  up  again  their  line 
of  march,  turned  into  the  crossroad  on  their 
way  back  to  the  village,  singing :  — 

"Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  marching; 
Cheer  up,  comrades,  they  will  come." 
28 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

"I  suppose  it  is  n't  worth  while,"  said  the 
man,  seating  himself  on  the  porch-steps 
and  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  fore- 
head. "The  boys  are  not  so  much  to  blame. 
It 's  their  parents  who  instill  into  their 
minds  that  spirit  of  intolerance,  who  de- 
serve to  be  chastened.  Now  you  can  see, 
Robert,"  turning  to  the  boy,  "the  extremes 
to  which  the  Northern  adherents  of  Lin- 
coln 's  cause  carry  their  hate  for  those  who 
will  not  agree  with  them." 

"I  know,  father,  I  know.  It's  an  outrage. 
They  have  treated  me  even  worse  than  they 
have  you.  And  yet  —  and  yet  I  can't  be- 
lieve Lincoln  is  to  blame  for  it." 

For  once  the  defense  of  Lincoln  did  not 
arouse  Bannister's  ire.  He  was  too  deeply 
interested  in  what  the  boy  had  said  of  him- 
self. 

"And  how  have  they  treated  you,  Rob- 
ert? What  have  they  done  to  you?" 

"Oh,  nothing  much.  Only  they  say 
you're  a  copperhead,  and  they  —  they — " 

"Well?" 

29 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"They  think  I  must  be  a  copperhead, 
too." 

"So!  Well,  it's  not  a  pretty  name,  to  be 
sure,  but  it  stands  for  something  in  these 
days.  And  suppose  you  were  a  copperhead, 
what  then?" 

"But  I  'm  not.  And  that's  how  they  hurt 


me." 


"What  have  they  done  to  you,  Robert? 
What  have  they  said  to  you  ?  How  have 
they  hurt  you  ?  I  want  to  know." 

The  pitch  of  anger  was  back  in  the  man's 
voice.  He  could  stand  persecution  for  him- 
self, but  to  have  his  loved  ones  persecuted, 
that  was  unbearable. 

"Oh,  it  don't  amount  to  much,"  replied 
the  boy;  "they  simply  didn't  want  me, 
that's  all." 

"Did  n't  want  you  when?  where?  how? 
Tell  me,  Robert!  I  say,  tell  me!" 

It  was  the  last  thing  the  boy  would  have 

told  to  his  father  voluntarily,  the  story  of 

the  slight  put  upon  him  that  evening  at  the 

village.  But,  inadvertently,  he  had  stumbled 

30 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

into  the  mention  of  it,  and  now  there  was 
no  escape  from  telling  the  whole  story.  He 
had  never  learned  the  art  of  equivocation, 
and  it  did  not  take  many  questionings  be- 
fore the  whole  humiliating  tale  was  in  his 
father's  possession.  But  the  outburst  of 
wrath  that  the  boy  had  feared  did  not  come. 
Instead,  for  many  minutes,  the  man  sat 
silent,  looking  down  at  the  gray  footpath 
losing  itself  in  the  shadows  of  the  trees. 
When  at  last  he  raised  his  head,  he  spoke 
slowly  as  if  to  himself. 

"Poor,  weak,  wicked  human  nature! 
Poor,  paltry,  fluctuating  popular  sentiment ! 
Utterly  illogical,  brutally  oppressive,  with 
no  mind  nor  thought  of  its  own,  led  hither 
and  thither  by  charlatans  and  demagogues 
'clothed  with  a  little  brief  authority.'  Ah! 
but  those  men  who  rule  and  ruin  down 
there  at  Washington  will  have  much  to 
answer  for  some  day !  It  may  not  be  until 
the  last  great  day,  but  the  accounting  is 
bound  to  come.  Mary,"  turning  to  his 
wife,  "is  it  better  that  we  should  follow  the 
31 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

lead  of  our  own  minds  and  consciences, 
and  suffer  humiliation  and  insult  and  ostra- 
cism ;  or  shall  we  yield  to  popular  pressure, 
and  hide  our  sentiments,  and  go  along  with 
the  shouting,  cheering,  mindless  rabble,  and 
shout  and  cheer  with  them?" 

"I  don't  know,  Rhett,  dear.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  it.  I  try  to  think  it 
out  sometimes,  but  I  get  all  confused  and 
I  stop  trying.  You  know  Cousin  Henry  is 
fighting  with  Lee,  and  Cousin  Charley  is 
with  Grant  in  Mississippi.  So  many  Ken- 
tucky families  are  divided  that  way,  and  it 
is  n't  strange  that  I  should  be  at  a  loss 
to  decide.  But  you've  thought  it  all  out, 
Rhett,  and  you  must  be  right,  and  I'll 
think  just  as  you  do,  no  matter  what  hap- 
pens to  us.  Anyway,  so  long  as  I  have  you 
and  Robert  and  Louise  I  shall  try  to  be 
happy.  Where  is  Louise  ?  I  forgot  all  about 
her.  Louise!" 

"Here,  mother." 

The  child  had  retreated  to  the  corner  of 
the  porch  when  the  first  sign  of  trouble  ap- 
32 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

peared,  and,  now  that  the  excitement  was 
over,  she  was  tired  and  sleepy. 

"Come,  dearie,  it's  long  past  bedtime. 
Say  good-night  to  papa  and  Robert." 

After  that,  though  Bob  and  his  father 
sat  long  upon  the  porch,  there  was  no  re- 
sumption of  conversation.  Each  was  im- 
mersed in  thought,  each  was  depressed  in 
spirit,  and  each  went  to  his  bed  only  to 
pass  a  restless  and  troubled  night. 

The  next  day  but  one  was  the  Fourth  of 
July.  Early  in  the  morning  there  came 
down  to  the  Bannister  homestead  the  dull 
echo  of  the  firing  of  the  little  old  village  heir- 
loom of  a  cannon,  which  the  boys  had 
dragged  up  to  the  top  of  a  ledge  back  of  the 
town,  and  with  which  they  were  accus- 
tomed, on  Independence  Day,  to  rouse  their 
sleeping  neighbors.  There  was  to  be  a  cele- 
bration at  the  village,  of  course.  There  had 
been  a  celebration  on  the  Fourth  of  July 
at  Mount  Hermon  from  a  time  whereof 
the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant  ran 
not  to  the  contrary.  There  were  to  be 
33 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

speeches,  the  band  was  to  play,  the  glee 
club  was  to  sing.  All  day,  in  the  basement 
of  the  town  hall,  the  young  ladies  were  to 
sell  refreshments  and  fireworks  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Soldiers'  Relief  Fund. 

Yet  there  was  no  spirit  of  cheerfulness 
or  rejoicing  in  the  air.  The  times  were  too 
tense.  The  strain  of  conflict  was  too  great. 
The  mightiest  battle  of  the  Civil  War  was 
on  at  Gettysburg.  For  two  days,  across 
the  streets  and  up  the  heights  of  that  quaint 
Pennsylvania  village,  the  armies  of  Meade 
and  Lee  had  clashed  and  striven  with  each 
other,  until  the  uncovered  dead  lay  by 
ghastly  thousands,  and  every  hollow  in  the 
hillside  held  its  pool  of  blood.  Rumors  of 
victory  and  rumors  of  disaster  crossed  and 
recrossed  each  other  on  the  way  from  the 
battle-field  to  the  villages  of  the  North. 
Mount  Hermon  hardly  knew  what  to  be- 
lieve. She  was  positive  only  of  this :  that 
two  score  of  her  sons  were  down  there  in 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  that  in  all 
human  probability  some  of  them,  many  of 
34 


NEWS  FROM   GETTYSBURG 

them  indeed,  were  wounded,  dying,  dead. 
Whose  husband,  son,  brother,  lover  would 
it  prove  to  be,  whose  eyes  would  never  see 
Mount  Hermon's  elms  again  ?  No  wonder 
the  spirit  of  anxiety  and  fearfulness  out- 
weighed that  of  jubilant  patriotism  on  this 
day. 

Ail  the  morning  the  news  had  been  sift- 
ing little  by  little  into  the  village.  Toward 
noon  it  was  certain  that  out  of  the  stress 
and  horror  of  a  mighty  battle  had  come 
distinct  victory  for  the  Union  armies.  Lee 
was  crushed,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that. 
His  broken  ranks  were  already  in  retreat, 
that  too  was  well  assured.  From  some 
quarter  also  came  a  rumor  that  Grant,  who 
had  been  for  weeks  thundering  at  the  gates 
of  Vicksburg,  had  broken  them  down  at 
last,  had  occupied  the  city,  and  that  Pem- 
berton's  army  was  his.  Yet  Mount  Her- 
mon  did  no  loud  rejoicing.  She  waited 
impatiently  for  confirmation  of  the  news, 
anxiously  for  the  list  of  dead  and  wounded. 
At  two  o'clock  the  stage  would  come, 
35 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

bringing  the  mail  and  the  morning  papers. 
As  the  hour  approached,  the  crowd  about 
the  post-office  grew  greater.  Not  a  jubilant 
crowd,  just  a  waiting,  hoping,  fearing,  in- 
tensely earnest  concourse  of  the  people  of 
Mount  Hermon. 

Into  this  gathering  strode  Rhett  Bannis- 
ter. It  was  imprudent  and  foolhardy  for 
him  to  come,  and  he  should  have  known  it. 
Indeed,  he  did  know  it.  But  during  the  two 
nights  and  a  day  that  had  passed  since  the 
slight  put  on  his  boy,  since  the  sons  of  his 
neighbors  had  insulted  him  at  his  own  home, 
lie  had  thought  much.  And  the  more  he 
thought,  the  more  deeply  wounded  became 
his  pride,  the  more  restlessly  he  chafed 
under  the  humiliating  yoke  that  had  been 
forced  on  him,  the  more  defiantly  he  deter- 
mined to  assert  his  right  to  think  for  him- 
self and  to  express  such  opinions  as  he  saw 
fit  concerning  public  affairs.  He  felt  that 
he  was  as  much  of  a  patriot,  that  he  had 
the  interest  of  his  country  as  deeply  at  heart 
as  any  resident  of  Mount  Hermon.  Why 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

then  should  he  submit  tamely  to  humilia- 
tion and  ostracism  and  maltreatment  ?  And 
if  he  chose  to  go  where  he  had  a  right  to  go, 
on  the  highway,  through  the  village  streets, 
to  the  government  post-office,  to  the  public 
gathering  in  celebration  of  a  day  which  was 
as  dear  to  his  heart  as  to  the  heart  of  any 
citizen  of  the  town,  why  in  the  name  of 
liberty  should  he  not  go?  Let  the  rabble 
say  what  they  would,  he  felt  that  he  could 
defend  himself,  by  word  of  mouth,  with  his 
strong  right  arm,  if  necessary,  against  any 
blatant  demagogue  or  blind  political  parti- 
san who  might  choose  to  set  upon  him.  In 
this  frame  of  mind  he  started  for  the  village, 
and  in  this  frame  of  mind  he  strode  into 
that  group  of  tense,  anxious,  patriotic  men 
and  women  waiting  for  the  news. 

There  were  few  who  greeted  him  as  he 
pushed  his  way  to  the  post-office  window, 
and  called  for  his  mail.  The  postmaster 
handed  out  to  him  two  papers  and  a  letter. 
He  tore  off  the  end  of  the  envelope,  drew 
out  the  scrap  of  paper  which  had  been 
37 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

inclosed,  and  looked  at  it.  Then  his  face 
turned  red  with  anger.  Some  mischievous, 
malicious  busybody  had  sent  him  an  anony- 
mous epistle :  a  crudely  penciled  picture,  a 
libelous  scrawl  beneath  it,  the  whole  a  coarse 
thrust  at  his  alleged  disloyalty.  If  this  had 
been  intended  as  a  joke,  he  could  not  have 
taken  it  as  such.  But  it  was  no  joke.  To 
him,  indeed,  it  was  simply  a  coarse,  brutal, 
wanton  attack  on  his  manhood  and  patriot- 
ism. It  started  the  fires  of  rage  burning 
with  sevenfold  heat  in  his  heart.  He  lifted 
his  blazing  eyes  to  find  half  the  people  in 
the  little  room  staring  at  him,  some  won- 
deringly,  some  exultingly.  Out  by  the  door- 
way there  was  a  suppressed  chuckle.  No 
one  spoke.  If  Bannister  had  been  content 
to  hold  his  peace,  there  would  have  been 
no  trouble.  But  he  could  not  do  that.  Only 
death  could  have  sealed  his  lips  in  that 
moment.  He  held  up  the  coarse  cartoon, 
with  its  equally  coarse  inscription,  for  the 
crowd  to  look  at.  Then  he  said,  speaking 
deliberately :  — 

38 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

"I  observe  that  you  have  found  a  new 
way  to  fight  the  battles  of  your  alleged 
country." 

For  a  moment  no  one  replied.  Then, 
from  the  farther  side  of  the  room  came  the 
voice  of  Sergeant  Goodman,  home  on  fur- 
lough, wounded. 

"To  whom  are  you  speaking,  Rhett 
Bannister?" 

And  the  reply  came,  hot  and  swift :  — 

"To  the  coward  who  sent  me  this  work 
of  art;  to  you  who  aided  and  abetted  him, 
and  to  all  of  you  who  take  your  cue  from 
the  Federal  government  at  Washington, 
and  persecute  in  every  mean  and  malicious 
way  those  who  do  not  believe  in  wholesale 
murder  in  the  South  and  who  are  not  afraid 
to  say  so  in  the  North." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  your  letter 
and  picture,  Bannister,"  said  the  sergeant, 
"but  we  who  are  doing  the  fighting  believe 
in  the  Federal  government  at  Washington, 
we  believe  that  we  are  carrying  on  a  just 
war,  and  we  believe  that  if  it  were  not  for 
39 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

you  and  the  rest  of  your  backbiting,  dis- 
loyal, copperhead  crew  here  in  the  North, 
who  are  giving  aid  and  sympathy  to  the 
rebels  of  the  South,  we  would  have  had 
this  war  ended  a  year  ago." 

"Give  it  to  him,  sergeant!"  cried  an  en- 
thusiastic listener;  "let  him  understand 
that  it  ain't  healthy  for  traitors  around 
here." 

"I'm  no  traitor,"  responded  Bannister 
hotly.  "I  think  as  much  of  my  country 
as  you  do  of  yours.  I'll  give  more  to-day, 
in  proportion  to  my  means,  to  secure  an 
honorable  peace  between  North  and  South 
than  any  other  man  in  this  room." 

"  Hon'able  peace ! "  shouted  a  gray-haired 
man  indignantly.  "Dishon'able  surrender 
you  mean.  You  want  the  govament  to  back 
down,  don't  ye,  an'  acknowledge  the  corn, 
an'  let  Jeff  Davis  hev  his  own  way,  an' 
make  a  present  to  'em  o'  the  hull  South  an' 
half  the  North  to  boot,  don't  ye  ?  An'  tell 
'em  they  done  right  to  shoot  down  the  ol' 
flag  on  Fort  Sumter,  an'  tell  'em  'at  Abe 
40 


NEWS  FROM   GETTYSBURG 

Lincoln 's  a  fool  an'  a  fraud  an'  a  murderer, 
don't  ye?  don't  ye?" 

"That  estimate  of  Abraham  Lincoln  is 
not  far  from  right,  my  friend,"  replied  Ban- 
nister. "For  it  is  only  a  fool  and  a  knave, 
and  a  man  with  the  spirit  of  Cain  in  his 
heart,  that  would  plunge  his  country  into 
ruin  and  keep  her  there;  that  would  send 
you,  Sergeant  Goodman,  and  you,  Henry 
Bradbury,  and  all  of  us  who  may  be  drawn 
in  the  accursed  conscription  that  is  coming, 
down  to  slaughter,  without  cause,  our 
brothers  of  the  South." 

"Look  here,  Rhett  Bannister!" 

This  was  the  voice  of  Henry  Bradbury. 
He  stood  against  the  wall  with  an  empty 
sleeve  hanging  at  his  side,  telling  mutely 
of  Antietam  and  Libby.  "You  can't  talk 
that  way  about  Abe  Lincoln  here.  We 
don't  want  to  hurt  you,  but  there's  some 
of  us  who've  been  in  the  army,  an'  who  love 
old  Abe,  an'  who  won't  stand  an'  hear  him 
slandered;  do  you  hear!" 

"Oh,  lynch  him!"  yelled  a  shrill  voice. 
41 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"Lynch  him,  an'  have  done  with  it.  He 
deserves  it!" 

"No,  tar  an'  feather  him  an*  send  him 
where  Old  Abe  sent  Vallandigham,  down 
among  his  rebel  friends!"  cried  another. 

People  were  crowding  into  the  little  lobby 
of  the  post-office,  attracted  by  the  sound 
of  angry  voices,  curious  to  see  and  hear, 
ready  for  any  sensation  that  might  befall. 
Up  near  the  box-window,  white  with  anger, 
not  with  fear,  stood  Rhett  Bannister  with 
clenched  hands.  In  front  of  him  were  a 
score  of  indignant  men,  ready  at  the  next 
instant,  if  wrought  to  it,  to  do  him  bodily 
harm. 

Then  old  Jeremiah  Holloway,  the  post- 
master, puffing  and  perspiring  with  his  three 
hundred  pounds,  came  out  from  his  side 
door  and  rapped  against  the  wall  with  his 
cane. 

"This  won't  do,  gentlemen!"  he  said.  "I 

can't  have  a  riot  in  a  govament  post-office. 

You'll  have  to  git  outside  an'  have  your 

fun  if  you  want  it.     I  ain't  protectin'  no 

42 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

copperheads.  But  I'm  goin'  to  protect  my 
property  an'  Uncle  Sam's  if  I  have  to 
knock  down  every  one  of  you.  Besides, 
the  stage's  a-comin'  an'  you  got  to  make 
way  for  the  United  States  mail." 

Holloway's  appeal  for  the  protection  of 
his  property  might  or  might  not  have  had 
the  desired  effect,  but  his  announcement  of 
the  arrival  of  the  stage  called  the  attention 
of  the  crowd  to  the  approach  of  a  four- 
horse  vehicle,  already  half-way  down  the 
square,  and  people  surged  out  to  meet  it. 
For  by  the  stage  came  papers,  letters  from 
the  seat  of  war,  sometimes  soldiers  on 
furlough,  and  this  afternoon  it  brought  also 
the  speaker  of  the  day,  an  eloquent  young 
lawyer  from  the  county  town,  who  had  al- 
ready seen  service  at  the  front.  The  band 
struck  up  a  patriotic  air  and  marched, 
playing,  across  to  the  platform  on  the  green, 
followed  by  the  girls  and  boys.  The  older 
people  remained  at  the  post-office  to  get 
their  mail.  Passengers  by  stage  confirmed 
the  news  of  the  victory  at  Gettysburg, 
43 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

hotly  fought  for,  dearly  bought,  but  a  vic- 
tory nevertheless.  They  also  brought  more 
definite  rumors  of  Grant's  probable  success 
at  Vicksburg.  The  letters  were  distributed 
and  delivered.  There  were  few  from  the 
front.  The  boys  who  were  with  Meade  had 
had  no  opportunity  to  write  that  week. 
But  the  newspapers  were  already  in  the 
hands  of  eager  readers,  men  with  pale 
faces,  women  with  pounding  'hearts. 

"Listen  to  this!"  said  Adam  Johns,  the 
schoolmaster.  "Here's  what  the  Tribune 
says :  '  Pickett's  division  of  Longstreet's 
corps  crossed  the  plain  in  splendid  march- 
ing order,  driving  our  skirmishers  before 
them.  At  the  Emmitsburg  road  they  met 
the  first  serious  resistance.  But  they  stormed 
the  stone  fence  which  formed  our  barricade, 
and  swept  on  up  the  hill  under  a  galling  fire 
from  our  rifles  in  front  and  our  artillery 
on  their  flank,  closing  in  and  marching 
over  their  thousands  of  fallen,  up  into  and 
over  our  shallow  rifle-pits,  overpowering 
our  troops,  not  only  by  the  momentum,  but 
44 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

as  well  by  the  daring  of  their  desperate 
charge.  And  that  charge  was  met  by  re- 
sistance just  as  stubborn,  by  bravery  as 
great,  by  daring  as  magnificent.  From  this 
moment  the  fighting  was  terrible.  They 
were  on  our  guns,  bayoneting  our  gunners, 
waving  their  flags  above  our  pieces,  yelling 
the  victory  they  believed  they  had  won. 
But  now  came  the  crisis.  They  had  gone 
too  far,  they  had  penetrated  too  deeply  into 
our  lines.  They  had  exposed  themselves 
to  a  storm  of  grape  and  canister  from  our 
guns  on  the  western  slope  of  Cemetery 
Hill,  and,  Pettigrew's  supporting  division 
having  broken  and  fled,  our  flanking  col- 
umns began  to  close  in  on  their  rear.  Then 
came  twenty  minutes  of  the  bloodiest  fight- 
ing of  the  war.  Gaylord's  regiment  of 
Pennsylvania  farmers  struck  Pickett's  ex- 
treme left  and  doubled  and  crushed  it  in 
a  fierce  encounter.  But  it  was  done  at  an 
awful  sacrifice.  Brackett's  company  alone 
lost  twenty-three  of  its  men,  and  every  ser- 
geant, and  Brackett  himself  was  killed  in 
45 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

a  hand-to-hand  encounter  with  a  rebel 
rifleman  — ' 

The  reader  paused,  lifted  his  eyes,  and 
looked  fearfully  around  the  little  room, 
peering  into  the  strained  faces  turned 
toward  him. 

"She  ain't  here,"  said  a  voice  from  the 
crowd. 

"God  help  Martha  Brackett!"  added 
another. 

But  there  was  a  woman  there,  poorly 
dressed,  pale  and  shrunken  from  recent 
illness,  scanning,  with  dreading  eyes,  the 
lists  of  dead,  wounded,  missing,  with  which 
columns  of  the  paper  some  one  had  given 
her  were  filled.  In  the  midst  of  the  confu- 
sion of  voices  following  the  announcement 
of  Brackett's  heroic  charge  and  fall,  there 
was  a  shrill  scream,  the  paper  fell  from  the 
nerveless  hand  of  the  woman  in  poor 
clothes,  and  she  fell,  white  and  insensible, 
to  the  floor. 

"She  saw  her  boy's  name  in  the  list  of 
killed,"  said  one  who  had  been  looking  over 
46 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

her  shoulder  as  she  read.  Others  lifted  the 
poor,  limp  body  and  carried  the  stricken 
woman  into  the  fresh  air  to  await  her  sad 
return  to  consciousness. 

And  all  this  time  Rhett  Bannister,  stand- 
ing defiantly  in  his  corner,  holding  his  peace, 
watching  the  grim  tragedies  that  were  being 
enacted  around  him,  dread  echoes  of  that 
mighty  tragedy  of  battle,  felt  the  surging 
tide  of  indignation  rising  higher  and  higher 
in  his  breast,  until,  at  last,  unable  longer 
to  keep  rein  on  his  tongue,  he  cried  out :  — 

"I  charge  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the 
Abolition  leaders  at  Washington  with  the 
death  of  George  Brackett  and  the  murder 
of  Jennie  Lebarrow's  son!" 

Then,  Sergeant  Goodman,  home  on  fur- 
lough, wounded,  strode  forth  and  grasped 
the  collar  of  Bannister's  coat,  and  before 
he  could  shake  himself  free,  or  defend  him- 
self in  any  way,  others  had  seized  his  hands, 
and  bound  his  wrists  together  behind  his 
back,  and  then  they  led  him  forth,  helpless, 
mute  with  unspeakable  rage. 
47 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

"What  shall  we  do  with  him?"  asked 
one. 

"Rush  him  to  the  platform!"  cried  an- 
other. 

And  almost  before  he  knew  it,  Bannister 
had  been  tossed  up  on  the  speaker's  stand 
and  thrown  into  a  chair,  and  was  being  held 
there,  an  object  of  execration  to  the  crowd 
that  surrounded  him.  He  was  not  cowed 
or  frightened.  But  he  was  dumb  with  in- 
dignation that  his  rights  and  his  person 
had  been  so  shamelessly  outraged.  White- 
faced,  hatless,  with  torn  coat  and  dis- 
heveled hair,  he  sat  there  breathing  hate 
and  looking  defiance  at  his  captors  and  tor- 
mentors. 

"If  this  had  been  in  some  countries," 
said  the  young  orator,  looking  scornfully 
down  on  him,  "you  would  now  be  dan- 
gling at  the  end  of  a  rope  thrown  over  the 
limb  of  that  big  maple  yonder,  and  willing 
hands  would  be  pulling  you  into  eternity." 

"And  if  this  were  in  some  communities," 
retorted  Bannister,  "you  would  be  tried 
48 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

and  convicted  and  legally  hanged  for  in- 
citing an  ignorant  and  brutal  populace  to 
riot  and  murder." 

A  tall,  dignified,  white-haired  old  gentle- 
man, who  had  been  scribbling  on  a  pad, 
now  advanced  to  the  edge  of  the  platform, 
holding  a  sheet  of  paper  in  one  hand,  and 
resting  the  other  easily  in  the  bosom  of  his 
partly  buttoned  frock-coat. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  he  said  impressively, 
"I  rise  to  offer  the  following  resolution, 
which  I  hope  will  be  adopted  without  a  dis- 
senting voice. 

"Whereas,  Rhett  Bannister,  a  resident 
of  Mount  Hermon  township,  and  an  avowed 
enemy  of  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  govern- 
ment at  Washington,  has  publicly  affronted 
the  patriotism  and  decency  of  this  com- 
munity this  day; 

"  Therefore,  be  it  resolved  that  we,  the 
citizens  of  Mount  Hermon,  hereby  express 
our  indignation  and  horror  at  his  conduct, 
and  declare  that  he  has  forfeited  all  right 
to  his  citizenship  among  us,  and  to  any 
49 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

consideration  on  our  part,  and  that  hence- 
forth he  shall  be  and  is  hereby  utterly  os- 
tracized, repudiated,  and  detested  by  the 
citizens  of  Mount  Hermon,  and  that  we 
use  all  legal  measures  to  drive  him  in  dis- 
grace from  our  community. 

"Mr.  Chairman,  I  move  the  adoption 
of  that  resolution." 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  chair- 
man, "you  have  heard  Judge  Morgan's 
resolution,  and  the  motion  for  its  adoption. 
Is  the  motion  seconded?" 

A  hundred  persons  vied  with  one  another 
for  the  honor  of  being  first  to  second  it,  and 
a  great,  tumultuous  chorus  of  "Aye!"  in- 
dicated its  passage  by  an  overwhelming  and 
unanimous  vote. 

"And  now,"  inquired  the  chairman, 
"what  shall  be  done  with  the  prisoner?" 

"Drive  him  home  with  his  hands  tied, 
and  let  the  band  play  him  out  of  town  to 
the  Rogues'  March!"  cried  one. 

Whereupon  the  crowd  shouted  its  en- 
thusiastic approval  of  the  suggestion.  And 
50 


NEWS  FROM  GETTYSBURG 

in  another  moment,  helpless  as  he  was, 
Bannister  was  pulled  from  his  chair  and 
from  the  platform,  and  a  dozen  willing 
hands  turned  his  face  toward  home. 

Then,  suddenly,  a  woman  stood  beside 
him,  and  the  resolute  voice  of  Sarah  Jane 
Stark  was  heard :  — 

"Gentlemen,  don't  you  think  you're 
going  a  little  bit  too  far?" 


CHAPTER  III 

A   LOVER    OF  LINCOLN 

Y 1 1HERE  was  an  awkward  pause.  The 
-L  band,  already  on  its  way  toward  the 
prisoner,  halted.  The  man  who  had  been 
pushing  Bannister  along,  loosened  his  hold. 
No  one  seemed  quite  ready  to  answer  Miss 
Stark's  question.  At  last,  the  chairman  of 
the  meeting,  feeling  that  the  duty  of  acting 
as  spokesman  devolved  properly  upon  him, 
replied :  — 

"The  man  is  a  traitor,  Miss  Stark.  He 
is  not  fit  to  remain  with  us.  It  is  for  our 
own  protection  that  we  are  sending  him 
away." 

Sarah  Jane  Stark  tossed  her  head  scorn- 
fully. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  don't  see  that  any 
of  you  are  in  very  great  or  immediate  per- 
sonal danger.  And  as  for  bravery,  it  don't 
take  much  courage  for  fifty  men  to  set  on 
52 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

one  man  and  tie  his  hands  behind  his  back 
and  buffet  and  abuse  him.  I've  watched 
the  whole  thing,  and  I  don't  like  it.  The 
man  made  a  fool  of  himself,  that's  true,  and 
Judge  Morgan  told  him  so.  Now  you're 
making  fools  of  yourselves,  and  it's  time 
some  one  told  you  so.  I  thought  I'd  be  the 
one,  that's  all." 

"But,  Miss  Stark,"  persisted  the  chair- 
man, "he's  a  copperhead,  he's  a  defamer 
of  the  President  and  the  country,  he  de- 
serves no  consideration,  either  from  us  or 
from  you." 

"Yes,"  added  one  in  the  crowd,  "and 
he's  a  member  of  the  Knights  of  the  Golden 
Circle,  and  they  plot  treason  and  murder." 

Then  Bannister  found  his  voice  for  the 
first  time  in  many  minutes. 

"That's  a  lie," he  said.  "I'm  not  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle.  I 
plot  nothing.  What  I  think,  I  say.  What 
I  do,  I'm  not  ashamed  of.  What  you 
cowards  can  do  to  me,  I'm  not  afraid  of." 

Sarah  Jane  Stark  turned  on  him  savagely. 
53 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

"You  shut  up!"  she  commanded.  "I'm 
doing  the  talking  for  this  delegation." 

Then  again  she  addressed  the  chairman 
of  the  meeting. 

"You  ought  to  know,"  she  said,  "that 
I'm  no  copperhead.  I  detest  'em.  You 
ought  to  know  that  with  two  brothers  and 
a  nephew  in  the  Union  armies  I  have  some 
sympathy  with  the  soldiers.  And  if  I  ever 
loved  a  man  in  my  life  I  love  Abe  Lincoln. 
But  there's  nothing  I  love  quite  so  much 
as  I  do  fair  play.  And  this  is  n't  fair  play." 

It  was  strange  how  quiet  the  crowd  had 
become.  But  then,  when  Sarah  Jane  Stark 
had  anything  to  say,  people  were  always 
ready  to  listen. 

"Now,  the  best  thing  for  you  people  to 
do,"  she  added,  "the  decent  thing  to  do,  is 
to  loosen  this  man's  hands,  give  him  his 
coat  and  hat,  and  let  him  go  quietly  away 
to  reflect  on  his  monumental  foolishness." 

She  was  already  untying  the  handker- 
chief that  bound  Bannister's  wrists  together 
as  she  spoke. 

54 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

" Folly  like  his,"  she  went  on,  "brings  its 
own  reward.  Maybe  the  good  Lord  wants 
him  for  a  Union  soldier  and  will  supervise 
the  draft  to  that  end.  So  it  is  n't  for  you  to 
fly  in  the  face  of  Providence  and  spoil  it  all 
before  the  time  is  ripe.  And  you,"  giving 
Bannister  a  little  push  as  she  spoke,  "you 
go  home  and  get  down  on  your  knees  and 
pray  for  common  sense." 

No  one  else  on  earth,  save  possibly  his 
own  cherished  wife,  could  have  sealed  Rhett 
Bannister's  lips  and  started  him  homeward 
this  day.  But  he  had  respect  for  Sarah  Jane 
Stark.  Along  with  his  townsmen,  he  hon- 
ored her  motives,  deferred  to  her  judgment, 
and  obeyed  her  commands.  So,  almost  un- 
consciously, before  he  fairly  knew  what  he 
was  doing,  before  he  had  time  to  think 
whether  he  was  retreating  ignominiously 
from  his  enemies,  or  leaving  them  in  dis- 
gust, he  found  himself  alone  on  the  highway 
walking  toward  his  home. 

When  he  reached  his  house,  he  found  his 
wife  and  children  all  waiting  for  him  on  the 
55 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

porch.  Much  as  Bob  liked  music  and 
crowds  and  excitement,  he  had  not  cared 
to  go  up  to  the  village  to-day,  and  had  in- 
duced Louise  to  stay  at  home  with  him. 
And  as  for  poor  Mrs.  Bannister,  she  shrank 
with  dread  from  meeting  any  of  her  neigh- 
bors. 

The  fact  that  something  had  happened 
to  him  during  his  two  hours'  absence  Ban- 
nister could  not  conceal.  It  was  too  evident, 
from  his  appearance,  that  he  had  been 
roughly  treated.  But  neither  of  his  children 
dared  to  ask  him  questions,  and  his  wife 
contented  herself  with  smoothing  back  his 
hair  and  rearranging  his  tie,  knowing  full 
well  in  her  fluttering  and  fearful  heart, 
that  vengeance  had  been  meted  out  to  him, 
and  that  sooner  or  later  she  would  know 
the  whole  unhappy  story. 

After  supper  Bob  set  off  some  modest  fire- 
works that  he  had  purchased  a  few  days 
before  —  two  or  three  rockets,  a  dozen 
Roman  candles,  some  pin  wheels  and  giant 
crackers.  And  so,  as  darkness  descended, 
56 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

the  Bannister  family  found  some  little  con- 
solation, some  little  relief  from  the  nervous 
strain  of  the  last  few  days,  in  the  temporary 
pleasure  of  illuminated  patriotism. 

Yet,  through  it  all,  there  was  anxiety  and 
apprehension.  Wrought  up  by  music  and 
oratory  and  fireworks  and  news  of  victories, 
there  was  no  telling  wThat  excesses  the  ultra- 
patriotic,  irrepressible  young  people  of  the 
village  might  indulge  in  at  the  expense  of 
a  hated  copperhead.  Every  noise  from  the 
direction  of  the  town,  every  sound  of  hoof- 
beats  on  the  highway,  of  footfalls  on  the  side 
path,  sent  a  thrill  to  the  nerves  and  a  chill 
to  the  heart  of  Mary  Bannister.  But,  as  the 
evening  wore  on  without  incident,  she  be- 
gan to  feel  a  measure  of  relief.  Then  the 
gate-latch  clicked  and  some  one  entered 
the  yard  and  started  up  the  path  toward 
the  house.  But  the  suspense  of  uncertainty 
lasted  only  for  a  moment,  for  the  heavy 
strokes  of  the  cane  on  the  walk,  and  the 
uncertain  footsteps,  announced  the  ap- 
proach of  their  next  neighbor  to  the  east, 
57 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

Seth  Mills.  He  was  cordially  greeted  and 
invited  to  a  seat  on  the  porch. 

"I've  just  heard,"  he  explained,  "what 
happened  up-town  to-day,  an'  I  thought 
I'd  come  over  an'  tell  ye  — " 

"Mary,"  said  Bannister,  "don't  you 
think  you  had  better  take  Louise  up  to 
bed  ?  It's  getting  quite  late.  You  may  stay, 
Robert,  if  you  wish." 

And  when  the  woman  and  child  had  said 
good-night  and  had  gone,  he  turned  to  his 
visitor  and  continued:  "Pardon  me  for  in- 
terrupting you,  Seth ;  but  you  see  they  don't 
know,  and  I  thought  it  was  hardly  worth 
while  to  have  their  feelings  worked  up 
over  it." 

"Jest  so!  Jest  so!"  responded  the  old 
man.  "Protect  the  women  and  children. 
That's  what  I  say.  But  they  was  n't  much 
I  wanted  to  tell  ye,  Rhett,  only  that,  ac- 
cordin'  to  my  views,  they  did  n't  treat  ye 
right,  an'  I'm  sorry  for  it.  They  ort  to  be 
ashamed  of  it  themselves.  Mebbe  they  will 
be  when  they've  hed  time  to  think  it  over. 
58 


A  LOVER   OF  LINCOLN 

Me  an'  you  don't  agree  in  politics,  Rhett, 
nor  about  the  war,  but  that  ain't  no  reason 
why  we  should  n't  treat  each  other  decent. 
That's  what  I  say." 

"And  you  are  right  about  it,  Seth.  But 
I  believe  that  you  and  I  are  the  only  two 
men  in  this  community  who  could  discuss 
their  political  differences  without  passion. 
You  are  of  Kentucky  ancestry,  I  am  of  South 
Carolinian.  These  other  people  here  are 
either  of  the  domineering  Yankee  type, 
or  else  are  descended  from  the  stubborn 
Pennsylvania  settlers.  Perhaps  that  ac- 
counts for  their  lack  of  fairness  and  rea- 
son. I  have  often  wondered  how  Abraham 
Lincoln,  with  his  Virginia  ancestry,  his 
Kentucky  birth,  and  his  western  training, 
could  be  so  narrow,  so  illogical,  so  illiberal, 
so  utterly  heartless  as  he  has  shown  himself 
to  be." 

"I  don't  think  them  are  proper  words, 

Rhett,  to  apply  to  Abraham  Lincoln.     I 

knowed  him  personally,  you  know,  back  in 

Illinois.  I  've  told  you  that  a  hundred  times. 

59 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

An*  I've  studied  him  a  good  deal  sence 
then,  and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  'at 
they  ain't  no  man  ever  lived  in  this  country 
who  can  see  furder  ahead,  an'  know  better 
how  to  git  there  'n  Abe  Lincoln.  An'  I 
don't  believe  no  other  president,  or  king, 
or  emperor  for  that  matter,  has  ever  felt 
on  his  heart  a  personal  responsibility  for 
his  country  as  Abe  Lincoln  has  felt  it,  or 
has  strove  or  struggled  or  strained  or  la- 
bored or  prayed  as  Abe  Lincoln  hes,  that 
his  country  might  be  saved  an'  become 
great  an'  happy.  That's  what  I  say." 

"But,  Seth,  that's  mere  sentiment.  Take 
the  facts.  Why  can't  he  see,  if  he  has  such 
marvelous  insight,  that  the  South  is  de- 
manding merely  her  rights  ?  All  she  wants 
now  is  to  be  let  alone,  to  take  her  property 
and  go,  to  govern  herself  as  she  sees  fit. 
And  when  she  is  assured  that  she  may  do 
so,  this  war  will  cease,  peace  will  come,  the 
horrible  struggle  will  be  at  an  end.  Why 
does  Abraham  Lincoln  persist  in  striving 
to  compel  this  brave  people,  by  force  of 
60 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

arms,  to  pass  again  under  the  galling  yoke 
of  his  hostile  government?" 

"I'll  tell  ye  why,  Rhett.  It's  becuz  Abe 
Lincoln  sees  better 'n  they  do  what's  best 
fur  'em.  He  sees  that  ef  the  South  was  per- 
mitted to  go  an'  set  up  a  separate  govamint, 
an'  hev  her  own  institutions  an'  flag,  an' 
foreign  ministers,  an'  all  that,  'at  the  next 
thing,  by  cracky !  the  Western  states  'd 
want  to  jine  up  an'  do  the  same  thing,  with 
jest  as  good  reason,  an'  then  the  New  Eng- 
land states  'd  foller  suit,  an'  in  less  'n  ten 
years  they'd  be  a  dozen  different  gova- 
mints,  in  place  of  the  old  United  States,  an' 
they'd  be  everlastingly  at  each  other's 
throats,  an'  they  would  n't  one  of  'em 
amount  to  a  hill  o'  beans.  It'd  be  rank 
folly;  that's  what  I  say." 

"I  know,  but,  Seth,  it's  not  necessary  to 
borrow  trouble  for  the  future.  If  this  man 
would  only  do  what  is  right  and  just  in  the 
present,  the  future  would  take  care  of  itself. 
It  always  does.  He  claims  that  he  wants  to 
save  the  Union.  Very  well.  There's  a  way 
61 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

open  for  him.  The  South  is  not  anxious  to 
leave  the  Union.  If  she  were  assured  of 
the  rights  and  consideration  to  which  she 
is  entitled,  she  would  stay  with  us.  Abra- 
ham Lincoln,  by  virtue  of  the  power  of  his 
office,  could  secure  those  rights  to  her  if  he 
would.  She  must  have  such  voice  in  the 
control  of  this  government  as  she  is  en- 
titled to  have  by  reason  of  her  ancestry,  her 
intelligence,  and  her  patriotism.  And  she 
must  have  protection  for  her  property  at 
home  and  abroad,  whether  that  property 
consists  of  land,  money,  or  slaves.  Give  her 
these  things  and  she  would  be  back  with  us 
at  once.  Oh,  if  Abraham  Lincoln  could 
only  see  this  and  act  accordingly!  If  he 
would  only  cut  loose  from  the  radicals  and 
the  abolitionists,  and  the  petty  politicians 
who  control  him,  and  who  even  now  treat 
him  behind  his  back  with  ridicule  and  con- 
tempt; if  he  would  only  heed  the  counsels 
of  such  men  as  Vallandigham,  Fernando 
Wood,  Judge  Wood  ward,  and  Judge  Taney, 
patriots  all  of  them ;  if  he  would  even  now 


\ 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

sue  for  an  honorable  peace  and  strive  for 
a  united  country,  he  would  get  it  and  get 
it  abundantly.  But,  alas!  your  Lincoln, 
with  his  assumed  simplicity,  his  high- 
sounding  phrases,  and  his  crafty  logic,  is, 
after  all,  but  a  coward  and  a  time-server, 
bending  the  country  to  his  own  selfish  ends, 
plunging  her  into  destruction  in  order  that 
the  bloody  zealots  at  Washington  may  be 
satisfied.  Oh,  the  folly,  the  misery,  the 
tragedy  of  it  all!" 

The  old  man  did  not  answer  at  once.  He 
sat,  for  a  full  minute,  looking  off  to  the 
faint  line  that  marked  the  western  hill- 
range  from  the  star-flecked  sky.  Over  in 
the  corner  of  the  porch  the  boy,  who  had 
listened  intently,  breathlessly,  to  the  dis- 
cussion, moved  and  drew  nearer.  From 
somewhere  in  the  house  came  the  faint 
music  of  a  good-night  song.  Then  Seth 
Mills,  straightening  up  in  his  chair,  took 
up  again  the  thread  of  conversation. 

"I  don't  see  as  it's  any  use  fur  you  an' 
me  to  argy  this  thing,  Rhett.  We  don't  git 
63 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

no  nearer  together.  We've  each  got  our 
opinions,  an'  so  fur  as  I  can  see,  we're 
likely  to  keep  'em.  But  you've  called  Abe 
Lincoln  a  coward.  Now,  I  want  to  tell  you 
somethin'.  I  knowed  Lincoln  out  there  in 
New  Salem  when  he  was  runnin'  Denton 
Offut's  store.  I've  told  ye  that  before.  An' 
I've  told  ye  how  the  Clary's  Grove  boys 
come  down  one  day  to  match  Jack  Arm- 
strong ag'inst  Lincoln  in  a  wrastlin'  match. 
An'  how,  when  Jack  tried  a  foul,  Abe  got 
mad,  an'  ketched  him  by  the  throat  an' 
give  him  the  blamedest  shakin'  up  he  ever 
bed  in  his  life.  I  did  n't  see  that,  but  I 
know  the  story's  straight.  An'  I've  told  ye 
how  he  straddled  a  log  with  a  rope  tied  to 
it,  an'  pushed  out  into  the  Sangamon 
River  at  flood,  that  spring  after  the  deep 
snow,  an'  went  tearin'  down  with  the 
current,  an'  saved  the  lives  o'  three  men 
a-clingin'  to  a  tree-top  in  midstream,  an' 
come  near  a-losin'  of  his  own  life  a-doin' 
of  it.  I  seen  him  do  that  myself.  An'  one 
night,  when  we  was  settin'  round  the  stove 
64 


A  LOVER   OF  LINCOLN 

in  Offut's  store,  swoppin'  yarns,  Jim  Han- 
niwell  come  in  considable  the  worse  fur 
liquor,  an'  begun  a-cussin'  an'  a-swearin' 
like  he  us'ally  did  when  he  was  drunk.  An' 
some  women  come  in  to  buy  somethin',  an' 
Jim  never  stopped,  an'  Lincoln  says,  "Jim, 
that'll  do,  they's  women  here.'  An'  Jim 
allowed  he'd  say  what  he  blame  pleased, 
women  or  no  women,  an'  he  did.  An' 
w'en  the  women  was  gone,  Lincoln  come 
out  aroun'  from  behind  the  counter  an' 
says,  'Jim,  somebody's  got  to  give  you  a 
lickin'  an'  it  might  as  well  be  me  as  any- 
body.' An'  he  took  him  an'  chucked  him 
out-doors,  an'  thro  wed  him  into  the  mud  in 
the  road,  an'  rubbed  dog-fennel  into  his 
mouth,  till  the  feller  yelled  fur  mercy.  I 
seen  him  do  that  too.  Mebbe  I've  told  ye 
all  these  things  before,  an'  mebbe  I  ain't; 
but  I  never  told  you,  nor  no  one  else,  what 
I'm  goin'  to  tell  ye  now,  an'  I  wouldn't  tell 
ye  this  ef  you  had  n't  'a'  said  Abe  Lincoln 
was  heartless  an'  a  coward.  It  was  in  that 
same  winter  of  '32.  I  was  out  with  the 
65 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

Clary's  Grove  boys  one  night,  an'  the  liquor 
went  round  perty  free,  an'  to  make  a  long 
story  short,  I  was  layin'  in  a  snow-bank 
alongside  the  road,  about  midnight,  half 
a  mile  from  my  cabin,  dead  drunk,  an'  the 
weather  around  zero.  An'  Abe  Lincoln 
happened  along  that  way  an'  found  me.  It 
ain't  a  nice  story,  Rhett,  so  fur's  I'm  con- 
cerned, but  I'm  a-talkin'  plain  to-night. 
He  was  n't  under  no  obligation  to  me.  I 
was  n't  much  account  them  days,  anyway. 
But  he  turned  me  over  an'  seen  who  I  wuz 
an'  what  the  matter  wuz,  an'  then  he  twisted 
me  up  onto  his  long  back,  Abe  Lincoln  did, 
an'  toted  me  that  hull  half-mile  up-hill,  in 
zero  weather,  to  my  home  an'  my  wife, 
God  bless  her,  an'  he  dropped  me  on  the 
bed  an'  he  says,  'Let  him  sleep  it  off,  Mis' 
Mills;  he'll  feel  better  in  the  mornin';  an' 
when  he  wakes  up  tell  him  Abe  Lincoln 
asks  him  not  to  drink  any  more.'  An'  I 
ain't,  Rhett,  —  I  ain't  teched  a  drop  o' 
liquor  sence  that  night.  But  what  I  want 
to  say  is  that  the  man  that  had  strength 
66 


A  LOVER   OF  LINCOLN 

enough  an'  heart  enough  to  do  that  fur  me 
who  was  nothin'  to  him,  has  got  strength 
enough  an'  heart  enough  an'  grit  enough 
to  carry  this  country  that  he  loves,  on  his 
bent  shoulders,  through  the  awfulest  storm 
that  ever  swept  it,  till  he  brings  it  home 
safe  an'  sound  an'  unbroken  to  all  of  us. 
It's  a  mighty  task,  Rhett  Bannister;  but 
he's  a-goin'  to  do  it;  I  know  'im,  an'  I  tell 
ye  he's  a-gom'  to  do  it;  an'  when  he's  done 
it,  you  an'  me  an'  ev'ry  man  'at  loves  his 
country  as  he  ort  to,  is  goin'  to  git  down  on 
our  knees  an'  thank  God  'at  Abraham 
Lincoln  ever  lived." 

Clear  and  resonant  on  the  night  air  the 
old  man's  voice  rang  as  he  finished  his 
story  and  rose  to  his  feet.  And  while  his 
face  could  not  be  seen  for  the  darkness, 
they  who  heard  him  felt  that  it  was  aglow 
with  enthusiasm  and  love  for  the  largest- 
minded,  biggest-hearted  man  that  had 
ever  crossed  his  path  —  Abraham  Lincoln. 
And  Bob,  leaning  far  forward  in  his  chair, 
drinking  in  every  word  of  the  story,  thrilled 
67 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

with  the  earnestness  of  the  speaker,  felt 
his  heart  fired  anew  with  reverence  and 
enthusiasm  for  the  great  war-president,  and 
with  zeal  for  the  cause  which  he  had  so 
faithfully  espoused. 

Rhett  Bannister  was  too  much  of  a  gen- 
tleman and  too  deeply  artistic  in  tempera- 
ment to  try  to  break  with  argument  or  de- 
preciation the  force  of  the  old  man's  recital. 

"Oh,  well!"  he  said,  rising.  "We  all 
have  our  heroes.  This  would  be  a  sad  world 
if  there  were  no  heroes  to  worship.  And  I 
can't  blame  you,  Seth,  for  having  put  a  halo 
around  Lincoln's  head." 

"Thank  you,  Rhett;  good-night!" 

The  old  man  limped  slowly  down  the 
path  and  out  into  the  road  and  turned  his 
face  toward  home.  After  that,  to  those 
who  sat  upon  the  porch,  the  quiet  of  the 
windless,  starlit  summer  night  was  un- 
broken. Over  in  the  direction  of  the  vil- 
lage an  occasional  rocket  flared  up  into  the 
sky  and  fell  back  into  darkness  —  nothing 
more. 

68 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

But  from  that  night  the  dominating  per- 
sonality in  Bob  Bannister's  life  was  Abra- 
ham Lincoln.  Look  which  way  he  would, 
the  vision  of  that  rugged,  kindly  face,  which 
he  had  seen  so  often  pictured,  and  the  tall, 
gaunt  form,  stood  out  ever  before  his  eyes, 
heroic,  paternal,  potential  to  the  utter- 
most. From  Seth  Mills  he  obtained  a  small 
volume  published  in  1860  reciting  the 
President's  career.  And  from  the  same 
source  he  got  what  was  much  better,  that 
modest,  unique  sketch  of  Lincoln's  life, 
written  by  himself  at  about  the  same  time 
for  the  same  purpose.  These  books  he  read 
and  reread  many  times,  and  the  oftener  he 
read  them  the  greater  grew  his  admiration 
for  the  one  great  hero  of  his  thought  and 
life. 

In  the  meantime,  under  the  conscription 
act  of  March  3,  1863,  put  in  force  by  the 
proclamation  of  the  President,  the  enroll- 
ment for  the  draft  went  on.  In  many  of  the 
states  the  drawings  were  made  in  July. 
On  the  thirteenth  of  that  month  began  the 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

draft  riots  in  the  city  of  New  York,  which 
were  suppressed  only  after  the  destruc- 
tion by  the  mob  of  much  property,  after 
the  shedding  of  much  blood  and  the  loss 
of  many  lives.  The  country  was  deeply 
stirred.  The  anti-war  party  took  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  to  denounce  the  govern- 
ment at  Washington  openly  and  bitterly. 
Only  in  communities  where  the  sentiment 
was  intensely  patriotic  was  the  policy  of 
the  draft  upheld.  Mount  Hermon  was 
one  of  these  communities.  Already  par- 
tially depopulated  by  her  voluntary  con- 
tributions of  men  to  the  Union  armies,  she 
nevertheless  accepted  the  situation  philo- 
sophically and  cheerfully,  believing  with 
Lincoln,  tha(t  this  was  the  only  practical  way 
to  put  a  speedy  end  to  the  war. 

But  to  Rhett  Bannister  this  draft  was 
the  crowning  act  of  infamy  perpetrated  by 
a  tyrannical  government.  His  whole  nature 
rebelled  against  the  idea  of  being  com- 
pelled, on  pain  of  death,  to  bear  arms  against 
his  brothers  of  the  South  whom  he  believed 
70 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

to  be  absolutely  in  the  right.  It  was  not 
until  September,  however,  that  the  draw- 
ing for  the  Congressional  district  in  which 
he  resided,  the  Eleventh  of  Pennsylvania, 
took  place  at  Easton  under  the  supervision 
of  the  provost-marshal,  Captain  Samuel 
Yohe. 

It  happened  that  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
last  day  of  the  drawing  Bob  went  up  to  the 
village  to  make  some  purchases  and  do 
some  errands  for  his  father.  Since  his  un- 
fortunate experience  on  Independence  Day 
Rhett  Bannister  had  not  often  been  seen 
among  his  neighbors.  Aside  from  a  few  of 
the  more  radical  sympathizers  with  the 
Southern  cause,  not  many  people  sought 
him  socially,  and  by  the  entire  Union  ele- 
ment he  was  practically  ostracized. 

The  condemnation  visited  on  his  father 
Bob  could  not  wholly  escape.  While  there 
were  few  who  knew  of  his  own  loyalty, 
there  were  many  who  knew  only  that  he 
was  the  son  of  Rhett  Bannister  the  despised 
copperhead.  So,  in  these  days,  when  Bob 
71 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

went  up  to  the  village  he  spent  no  time  in 
loitering,  or  visiting,  or  playing  with  his 
former  schoolfellows.  His  errands  done,  he 
started  without  delay  on  his  way  toward 
home. 

But,  on  this  September  afternoon,  there 
was  excitement  at  the  village.  For  two  suc- 
cessive days  the  names  drawn  from  the 
wheel  at  Easton  had  included  but  a  bare 
half-dozen  from  Mount  Hermon.  And 
these  were  the  names  of  men  who  could 
well  afford  to  pay  the  three  hundred  dollars 
demanded  by  the  government  as  the  price 
of  their  release  from  service.  But  to-day, 
the  last  day  of  the  drawing,  it  was  more 
than  probable  that  the  number  of  men 
drafted  from  Mount  Hermon  would  be  at 
least  doubled. 

So,  as  the  day  wore  on,  the  crowd  about 
the  door  of  the  post-office  increased.  At 
five  o'clock  a  special  messenger  would 
arrive  from  Carbon  Creek  with  a  list  of  the 
men  that  day  drafted  from  Mount  Her- 
mon township,  the  list  having  been  sent 
72 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

by  telegraph  from  Easton  to  that  sta- 
tion. 

When  finally  the  messenger  arrived, 
Bob  was  listening  with  breathless  interest 
to  a  discussion  concerning  the  Emancipa- 
tion Proclamation,  and  it  was  only  when 
he  heard  some  one  shout,  "Here's  the 
list!"  that  he  realized  what  had  happened. 

"Let  Adam  Johns  read  it,"  demanded 
a  man  in  the  crowd. 

Whereupon  the  young  schoolmaster, 
mounting  a  chair,  and  unfolding  the  paper 
placed  in  his  hands,  began  to  read.  And 
the  very  first  name  that  he  read  was  his 
own.  He  looked  out  calmly  over  the  group 
of  men  before  him,  his  face  paling  some- 
what with  the  shock  of  the  news. 

"I  will  go,"  he  said.  "I  ought  to  have 
gone  before.  I  am  ashamed  to  have  waited 
for  —  for  this  —  but  --  " 

'You're  all  right,  Adam!"  interrupted 

some  one  in  the  crowd,  who  knew  how  the 

schoolmaster's  widowed  mother  leaned  on 

him  for  comfort  and  support,  "you're  all 

73 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

right.  There's  a  dozen  of  us  here  that'll 
be  sons  to  her  when  you  go." 

The  young  man  wiped  from  his  eyes  the 
sudden  moisture  that  dimmed  his  sight, 
and  went  on  with  the  reading  of  the  list. 
It  was  not  a  long  one.  There  were  some 
surprises,  but  there  was  no  demonstration. 
For  the  most  part  the  reading  was  greeted 
with  the  silence  of  intense  earnestness. 
And  the  very  last  name  on  the  list  was  the 
name  of  Rhett  Bannister.  The  schoolmas- 
ter's hand  grasping  the  paper  fell  to  his 
side.  For  an  instant  no  one  spoke.  Then 
a  man  shouted,  "Hurrah  for  the  draft!" 
and  another  one  cried,  "Uncle  Sam's  got 
him  now!"  and  then,  amid  the  confusion 
of  voices,  men  were  heard  everywhere  con- 
gratulating one  another  on  the  drafting  of 
Rhett  Bannister. 

With  flushed  face  Bob  started  for  the 
door,  and  the  crowd  parted  to  let  him  pass. 
But  outside  he  ran  into  a  group  of  his 
schoolmates,  the  same  boys  who  had  court- 
martialed  him  and  dismissed  him  in  dis- 
74 


A  LOVER  OF  LINCOLN 

grace  from  their  company  three  months 
before. 

"Old  man  got  struck  with  lightnin'  this 
time,  didn't  he,  Bob?"  called  out  Sam 
Powers. 

"He'll  skedaddle  for  Pike  County  when 
he  hears  about  it,"  added  "Brilly."  "Bet- 
ter run  home  an'  tell  him,  quick." 

"He  don't  dare  to,"  responded  Sam. 
"I'll  dare  you,"  he  continued,  shaking  his 
forefinger  in  Bob's  face,  "to  go  home  an' 
tell  your  copperhead  dad  he's  drafted!" 

"Aw,  shucks!"  exclaimed  Bill  Hinkle. 
"You  fellows  are  smart,  ain't  you!  Let 
him  alone.  He  ain't  done  nothin'  to  you. 
Aw,  shucks!" 

And  then  Bob  got  angry. 

"It's  none  o'  you  fellows'  business,"  he 
said,  "whether  my  father  's  drafted  or  not. 
You're  bullies  an'  cowards,  the  whole  lot 
of  you !  Get  out  o'  my  way !" 

And  so,  with  flashing  eye,  heaving  breast, 
erect  head,  he  passed  through  the  crowd  of 
boys  untouched.  Awed  and  silenced  by  his 
75 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

outburst  of  wrath,  they  dared  not  molest 
him.  But,  as  he  went  down  the  road 
through  the  gathering  twilight  toward  his 
home,  he  began  to  wonder  if,  after  all,  Sam 
Powers  was  not  right.  Would  he  dare  to 
tell  his  father? 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

WOULD  he  dare  to  tell  his  father 
about  the  draft  ?  The  question  kept 
repeating  itself  in  Bob  Bannister's  mind, 
and  the  answer  to  it  grew  more  and 
more  uncertain  as  he  drew  nearer  to  his 
home.  Already  he  could  see  the  gabled 
roof  of  the  house,  and,  back  of  it,  dimly 
outlined  against  the  gray  sky,  the  white 
blades  of  the  windmill,  free  from  their 
lashing,  whirling  swiftly  in  the  rising  wind. 
The  windmill  did  the  work  of  three  men 
for  Rhett  Bannister.  It  sawed  his  wood, 
pumped  his  water,  churned  his  milk, 
threshed  his  grain,  and  drove  the  machinery 
by  which  he  manufactured  his  stock  in 
trade.  A  few  years  before  the  beginning  of 
the  war  he  had  secured  a  patent  on  a  design 
for  a  beehive,  ingeniously  adapted  to  the 
instinct  of  the  bees,  and  so  arranged  as  to 
77 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

make  their  product  removable  quickly, 
easily,  and  at  any  time.  His  success  in  the 
manufacture  and  sale  of  these  hives  had 
been  so  great  that  for  a  time  he  was  quite 
unable  to  supply  the  demand  for  them. 
Then  the  war  came,  and  with  it,  and  as  a 
consequence  of  it,  his  ever-growing  unpop- 
ularity ;  and,  almost  before  he  knew  it,  his 
business  had  so  fallen  away  that  it  became 
necessary  for  him  to  dismiss  his  hired  help, 
and  he  himself  had  little  to  do  save  to  man- 
ufacture and  store  his  product  in  hope  of 
better  times.  Indeed,  for  the  last  few  weeks 
the  whir  of  the  wheel  had  been  an  unusual 
sound,  and  Bob  wondered  as  he  drew  near, 
that  it  should  be  going  on  this  day,  espe- 
cially at  so  late  an  hour.  So,  instead  of 
stopping  at  the  house,  he  went  straight  on  to 
the  shop  entrance,  to  discover,  if  possible, 
the  cause  of  this  unwonted  activity. 

At  the  bench,  in  the  gloom,  he  saw  his 

father,  fashioning,  with  the  power-saw,  a 

heavy  block  of  wood  into  the  form  of  a 

brace.   The  man  did  not  look  up  from  his 

78 


THE  DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

work  as  the  boy  entered ;  perhaps  he  did  not 
hear  him  come. 

"I'm  back,  father,"  said  Bob;  "I  saw 
the  windmill  going  and  I  came  on  over 
here." 

"Yes;  you're  late.   What  kept  you?" 

"Why,  nothing  in  particular." 

"Were  there  any  letters?" 

Then  Bob  remembered  that  in  his  eager- 
ness to  hear  the  discussion  concerning  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation,  in  his  excite- 
ment over  the  reading  of  the  draft-list,  and 
in  his  haste  to  get  away  after  his  father's 
name  had  been  announced,  he  had  forgot- 
ten to  inquire  for  his  mail. 

"Why,  I  — didn't  get  the  mail,"  he 
stammered.  "I  —  I  —  did  n't  ask  for  it." 

"Why  not?" 

The  man  laid  down  his  work,  slipped  the 
belt  from  the  pulley,  and  turned  toward 
Bob. 

"Because  — "  replied  the  boy,  "because 
I  wanted  to  get  away." 

"Mean  again  to  you,,  were  they?  Small, 
79 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

contemptible  spirits !  How  tyranny  in  high 
places  is  always  imitated  by  the  mob!" 
"Not  so  much  that,  father;  but  —  there 


was  news." 


"Oh,  news.  I  see.  Was  the  conscription- 
list  in?" 

"A  special  messenger  brought  it." 
"And  did  you  see  it?  or  hear  it  read?" 
"Adam  Johns  read  it  out  loud." 
And    then    there    was    silence    between 
them.  The  man  could  not  quite  condescend 
to  ask  for  the  desired  information ;  the  boy 
could  not  quite  bring  himself  to  the  point 
of  volunteering  it.    So  they  stood  there  in 
the  gathering  darkness,  speechless.    Over 
their  heads  the  great  wheel  creaked  and 
whirred.  And  each  knew,  in  his  heart,  that 
the    other   knew    that   Rhett   Bannister's 
name  was  on  the  list  of  drafted  men. 

Out  in  the  road  there  was  the  noise  of 
wagon-wheels  going  by,  mingled  with  the 
talking  of  men.  And  then,  above  the  rattle 
of  the  wheels,  above  the  creaking  and 
groaning  of  the  windmill,  above  the  howl- 
80 


THE  DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

ing  of  the  wind,  came  the  voice  of   one 
shouting :  — 

"Rhett  Bannister — you  copperhead  — 
you're  drafted  —  thank  God!" 

That  was  all.  The  voices  were  again 
silent.  The  wagon  passed  on,  the  whir  and 
wheeze  of  the  windmill  never  ceased.  In 
the  darkness  Bob  could  not  see  his  father's 
face,  but  he  knew  as  well  how  it  looked  as 
though  the  sun  of  midday  shone  on  it.  And 
then,  involuntarily,  from  his  own  lips  came 
the  confirmation :  — 

"Father,  it  is  true." 

But  Rhett  Bannister  did  not  reply.  He 
stood  there  in  the  darkness,  dimly  outlined, 
immovable.  Still  the  wrheel  went  round, 
faster  and  faster  in  the  driving  wind,  and 
the  boughs  of  the  maples,  bending  and 
springing  in  the  gale,  swept  and  scraped 
against  the  eaves  of  the  work-shop.  Then 
the  doorway  was  darkened  by  another  fig- 
ure. Bob's  mother,  peering  into  the  gloom, 
called  out :  — 

" Rhett,  dear,  are  you  there?" 
81 


A   LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"Yes,  Mary." 

"Rob  has  n't  come  yet." 

"Yes,  mother,  I'm  here  too." 

"I'm  so  glad!  What  was  it  those  men 
shouted,  Rhett?  Does  it  mean  any  harm 
to  you?" 

"I  hope  not,  Mary.  It  was  just  some 
wild  zealot  echoing  the  sentiment  of  his 
crazy  masters,  that's  all.  We'll  go  in  to 
supper  now." 

As  he  spoke,  Bannister  pulled  the  lever 
that  clamped  the  wheel,  and  the  whirring 
and  grinding  ceased.  Then  he  locked  the 
shop-door  and  they  all  went  down  the  path 
to  the  house. 

At  the  supper-table  the  subject  of  the 
draft  was  not  mentioned.  But,  later  in  the 
evening,  after  Bob's  sister  had  gone  to  bed. 
and  a  wood-fire  had  been  lighted  in  the 
fireplace,  for  it  had  grown  suddenly  cold, 
Rhett  Bannister  chose  to  inform  his  wife  of 
the  situation.  Try  as  he  might  to  prevent 
it,  the  social  blight  which  had  fallen  on  him 
covered  her  also  with  its  sinister  darkness. 
82 


THE   DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

Her  heart  was  deeply  troubled.  She  passed 
her  days  in  anxiety  and  her  nights  in  fear. 
She  knew  little  of  the  deep  undercurrents 
of  political  passion  and  of  fratricidal  strife 
that  were  undermining  the  bed-rock  of  the 
nation.  She  knew  only  that  she  trusted  her 
husband  and  believed  in  him,  and  was 
ready  to  endure  any  suffering  for  his  sake. 
And  while,  always,  he  sought  to  protect  and 
comfort  her,  even  to  the  extent  of  keeping 
from  her  knowledge  such  matters  as  would 
give  her  unnecessary  anxiety  or  alarm,  still 
there  were  times  when  he  thought  she  ought, 
for  the  sake  of  all  of  them,  to  know  what 
was  happening.  And  to-night  was  one  of 
those  times. 

"Sit  here,  Mary,"  he  said.  "Let's  talk 
over  this  matter  of  the  draft.  That  rowdy 
shouted,  and  Robert  confirms  the  report, 
that  I  have  been  drafted.  That  means 
that  I  shall  have  to  go  and  fight  in  the 
ranks  of  the  Union  armies,  whether  I  will 


or  no." 


O  Rhett!    Do  you  mean  that  you  have 

83 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

to  go  as  Charley  Hitchner  did,  and  John 
Strongmeyer  ?  " 

"Yes,  only  they  were  drafted  by  the 
state.  The  government  at  Washington 
chooses  to  take  me." 

"But  what  shall  I  do  without  you?  If 
they  knew  how  impossible  it  is  for  you  to  go 
and  leave  me  alone,  they  would  n't  make 
you  do  it,  I'm  sure." 

"Yes,  dear.  The  privations  and  suffer- 
ings of  wives  and  children  are  not  consid- 
ered. The  administration  at  Washington 
needs  men  to  carry  on  this  unholy  war,  and 
wives  may  starve  and  babies  may  die,  but 
the  war  must  go  on.  There,  Mary,  never 
mind,"  as  the  tears  came  into  the  woman's 
eyes,  "I  haven't  gone  yet.  Perhaps  I'll 
not  go.  A  man's  house  is  his  castle,  you 
know.  They'll  have  hard  work  to  take 
me  if  I  choose  to  stay.  Well,  Rob,  who 
else  was  drafted?  You  heard  the  list 
read." 

"Yes,  father,  Adam  Johns  read  it.  His 
own  name  was  the  first  one  on  it." 
84 


THE  DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

"Ah!  poor  old  Mrs.  Johns.  She  idolizes 
that  boy." 

"And  must  Adam  Johns  go  to  war?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Bannister,  anxiously. 

"Yes,  mother,"  replied  Bob.  "He  said 
he  would  go.  He  said  he  was  sorry  he  had 
waited  for  the  draft.  And  Henry  Bradbury 
said  he  would  take  care  of  Adam's  mother. 
And  a  lot  more  said  so  too." 

"Oh,  well!"  rejoined  Bannister,  "such 
obligations  rest  lightly  on  the  consciences 
of  those  who  make  them  after  the  excite- 
ment and  passion  have  died  out.  Poor 
Anna  Johns  will  have  to  look  out  for  herself 
if  her  boy  goes.  And  if  he  dies,  God  help 
her!  Who  else  were  drawn,  Robert?" 

"Why,  Elias  Traviss.  They  said  he 
would  pay  his  three  hundred  dollars  exemp- 
tion money,  though,  and  stay  home ;  that  he 
could  well  afford  to  do  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Bannister,  bitterly,  "there 

lies  the  iniquity  of  the  whole  proceeding. 

The  rich  man  may  buy  his  release  from 

service  with  money ;  the  poor  man  must  pay 

85 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

the  price  with  his  body,  his  blood,  his  life, 
perhaps.  It's  barbarous ;  it's  inhuman!" 

Then,  all  in  a  moment,  Mary  Bannister 
grasped  the  idea  of  purchased  exemption. 

"Why,  Rhett!"  she  exclaimed,  "you 
have  that  money  in  the  bank,  you  know. 
If  they  come  for  you,  you  can  pay  them  the 
three  hundred  dollars  and  stay  at  home,  the 
same  as  Elias  Traviss  is  going  to  do.  Can't 
he,  Robbie?" 

;<Yes,  mother,  or  hire  a  substitute  the 
same  as  'Squire  Matthews  did." 

"So  you  won't  have  to  go, Rhett, you  see, 
even  if  you  are  drafted.  And  we  can  well 
afford  the  money." 

Bannister  looked  from  his  wife  to  his  son, 
and  back  again,  with  a  smile  of  pity  on  his 
lips  for  their  simplicity.  But  there  was  no 
anger  in  his  voice  as  he  replied :  — 

"That  is  true,  Mary.  Doubtless  I  could 
purchase  immunity  from  the  draft  with 
money.  But  my  money  would  be  used  by 
me  to  buy  a  substitute,  or  by  the  govern- 
ment for  the  purposes  of  the  war,  and  the 
86 


THE  DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

moral  guilt  on  my  part  would  be  even 
greater  than  though  I  went  myself.  No,  I 
shall  not  purchase  my  release,  nor  shall  I  go 
to  war.  There  are  means  of  defending  my 
rights  and  my  person  against  this  tyranny, 
and  I  shall  exercise  them.  I  may  die  in  the 
attempt,  but  I  shall  not  have  it  charged 
against  my  memory  that  I  fought  my  bro- 
thers of  the  South  with  bayonet  and  rifle,  or 
helped  others  to  do  it." 

In  his  excitement,  he  rose  from  his  chair 
and  paced  up  and  down  the  floor,  but,  in  a 
moment,  growing  calmer,  he  added :  — 

"Oh,  well!  they  haven't  come  for  me 
yet.  Let's  not  borrow  trouble.  We'll  have 
it  soon  enough.  Keep  a  stout  heart,  Mary. 
And  we'll  all  go  to  bed  now  and  sleep  away 


our  cares.'2 


It  wTas  all  very  well  for  Rhett  Bannister 
to  speak  thus  lightly  of  sleeping  away  cares, 
but  as  for  his  poor  wife,  she  lay  half  the 
night,  dreading  lest  the  next  noise  she 
should  hear  might  be  Lincoln's  soldiers 
come  to  take  away  her  husband  to  what 
87 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

both  he  and  she  considered  a  cruel,  cause- 
less war.  Nor  did  sleep  come  quickly  to 
close  Bob's  eyes.  Never  before  had  the 
conflict  between  parental  love  and  duty  and 
his  exalted  sense  of  patriotism  been  so  fierce 
and  strong.  Yet,  reason  with  himself  as  he 
would,  he  was  not  able  to  convince  either 
his  heart  or  his  judgment  that  his  father 
was  right  and  that  Abraham  Lincoln  was 
wrrong.  And  as  the  great  War  President 
expounded  his  thought  on  the  crisis  to  the 
American  people,  and  governed  his  conduct 
accordingly,  Bob  Bannister  believed  in  him, 
trusted  him,  followed  him  in  spirit,  and 
would  have  followed  him  in  body  had  he 
been  of  sufficient  age  to  bear  arms. 

But  here  and  now  was  the  fact  of  his 
father's  conscription  to  deal  with;  a  fact 
which  opened  the  door  to  untold  trouble, 
to  possible,  if  not  probable,  tragedy.  For 
Bob  knew  that  in  declaring  his  proposed 
resistance  to  the  draft  his  father  was  not 
indulging  in  mere  bravado.  What  Rhett 
Bannister  said  he  meant,  and  what  he  un- 
88 


THE  DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

dertook  to  do  he  did  if  it  was  within  the 
power  of  human  accomplishment.  So  Bob 
waited  in  dread  for  the  coming  of  the 
officer  to  serve  the  notice  of  the  draft. 

But  when,  three  days  after  the  drawing,  a 
deputy  provost-marshal  did  come  with  a 
conscription  notice,  neither  Bob  nor  his 
father  was  at  home.  So  the  notice  was  left 
at  the  house  with  Mrs.  Bannister,  and  she, 
poor  woman,  after  contemplating  it  all  the 
afternoon  with  dread  and  apprehension, 
thrust  it  into  her  husband's  hand  at  night, 
saying  deprecatingly,  tearfully :  — 

"O  Rhett,  I  couldn't  help  it!  He  just 
gave  it  to  me,  and  I  did  n't  know  what  it 
meant  till  I  read  it,  and  I  don't  know  now, 
except  I  suppose  it  means  that  you  are 
really  drafted  and  must  go  to  war.  And  he 
would  n't  stay  to  let  me  tell  him  why  it  was 
just  impossible  for  you  to  go,  and  —  and 
that's  all  I  know  about  it,  Rhett  dear." 

Bannister  took  the  notice  and  read  it 
over.  It  was  simply  to  the  effect  that,  in 
accordance  with  the  Act  of  Congress  of 
89 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

March  3, 1863,  he  had  been  drawn  to  serve 
for  three  years,  or  during  the  war,  as  a 
soldier  in  the  armies  of  the  United  States. 
It  further  notified  him  to  report  for  duty 
within  ten  days  from  the  date  of  service  of 
the  notice,  at  the  office  of  the  provost-mar- 
shal for  the  district,  Captain  Samuel  Yohe, 
at  Easton,  Pa.  There  was  an  additional 
notice  to  those  desiring  to  purchase  release 
from  service,  to  pay  the  three  hundred  dol- 
lars commutation  money  to  the  deputy  in- 
ternal-revenue collector  for  the  district. 

When  he  had  carefully  read  the  notice 
a  second  time,  Bannister  folded  it  and  laid 
it  on  the  desk. 

"I  have  ten  days  of  peace,"  he  said, "in 
which  to  prepare  for  war." 

Thereafter  he  was  very  busy.  He  cleaned 
up  many  odds  and  ends  of  work  as  though 
he  were  preparing  for  a  long  journey. 
Oddly  enough,  however,  he  spent  much 
time  in  making  repairs  to  his  windmill. 
He  carried  the  boxing  of  the  shaft  higher 
above  the  roof  of  his  shop,  closed  the  top  of 
90 


THE   DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

it  over  carefully,  and  made  a  little  window 
in  each  of  the  four  sides.  He  appeared 
anxious  to  get  it  completed  before  a  storm 
should  come  up.  Little  was  said  about  the 
draft,  or  about  his  personal  liability  for 
service,  and  the  subject  of  commutation 
money,  or  a  substitute,  was  not  again  so 
much  as  mentioned.  But  it  was  with  a  sense 
of  dread  and  apprehension  that  Mrs.  Ban- 
nister and  Bob  saw  the  days  go  by,  saw  the 
preparations  going  forward  for  the  ap- 
proaching crisis,  noted  the  fixed  lips  and  the 
unfaltering  eye  that  always  indicated  that 
Rhett  Bannister's  mind  was  made  up  and 
that  wild  horses  could  not  drag  him  from 
his  purpose.  Once,  the  thought  flashed 
across  Bob's  mind  that  possibly,  instead  of 
attempting  to  resist  the  draft,  his  father  had 
decided  to  accept  the  inevitable  and  report 
for  duty  as  a  soldier  of  the  United  States. 
And  the  idea  sent  such  a  thrill  of  joy 
through  him,  so  set  the  blood  to  bounding 
in  his  veins,  opened  up  to  him  such  a  vision 
of  pride  and  exultation,  that  it  was  hard  for 
91 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

him  to  get  back  to  the  level  of  the  stubborn 
fact  that  all  the  work  being  done  by  his 
father  was  being  done  simply  for  the  pur- 
pose of  being  better  prepared  to  resist  the 
officers  of  the  law. 

So,  on  the  evening  of  the  tenth  day  from 
the  date  of  service  of  notice  of  the  draft, 
Rhett  Bannister  was  still  at  his  home.  With 
apparent  unconcern  he  sat  at  the  table  in 
his  sitting-room  reading  a  late  copy  of  the 
New  York  Day-Book,  a  violent  anti-ad- 
ministration journal  which  had  that  day 
reached  him. 

"The  Day-Book  is  right,"  he  said,  laying 
down  the  paper,  "in  declaring  that  if  there 
was  any  manhood  left  in  Pennsylvania,  her 
citizens  would  rise  in  armed  rebellion 
against  the  enforcement  of  this  cruel  and 
obnoxious  draft  as  did  the  citizens  of  New 
York  city  in  July.  If  the  army  had  both 
ways  to  face,  North  and  South,  the  war 
would  soon  be  at  end.  Well,  I  am  but  one 
against  the  powers  at  Washington,  but  all 
the  armies  of  the  United  States  cannot 
92 


THE   DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

force  me  to  wear  their  uniform  and  bear 
their  weapons  against  my  will." 

By  that  speech,  Bob's  hopes,  if  he  still 
cherished  any,  were  completely  dashed.  He 
knew  by  that  that  his  father  would  resist 
the  enforcement  of  the  draft  to  the  end, 
bitter  and  bloody  though  the  end  might  be. 

The  ten  days  had  expired.  All  the  other 
drafted  men  from  Mount  Hermon  had 
gone  to  Easton.  But  Rhett  Bannister  had 
not  responded  to  the  call.  Henceforth,  by 
the  terms  of  the  conscription  act,  he  was 
classed  as  a  deserter,  subject  to  arrest, 
court-martial,  and  speedy  execution.  He 
himself  said  that  a  price  was  now  on  his 
head. 

Mrs.  Bannister  went  about  the  house, 
pale,  apprehensive,  starting  fearfully  at 
every  unusual  sound,  peering  constantly 
up  the  road,  yet  in  dread  of  what  she  might 
see  there. 

For  Bob,  his  days  were  miserable  and  his 
nights  were  sleepless.  He  turned  over  con- 
stantly in  his  mind  scheme  after  scheme  to 
93 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

save  the  honor  of  the  family  and  to  relieve 
his  father  from  the  desperate  situation 
in  which  he  had  placed  himself.  But  all 
schemes  were  useless,  impractical,  impos- 
sible. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  the  expiration  of 
the  time-limit,  a  rumor  from  a  friendly 
source  floated  down  secretly  to  the  Bannis- 
ter homestead,  to  the  effect  that  a  detach- 
ment of  United  States  soldiers,  members 
of  the  invalid  corps,  on  provost-guard  duty, 
had  reached  the  county  seat  and  were 
about  to  start  out  to  round  up  deserters, 
and  drafted  men  who  had  failed  to  respond. 
They  were  likely,  the  warning  went,  to  ap- 
pear at  Mount  Hermon  at  any  hour.  Loyal 
citizens  said  that  Rhett  Bannister  had 
reached  the  end  of  his  rope;  and  radical 
Unionists  remarked  that  the  end  of  that 
rope  had  a  loop  in  it. 

Seth  Mills  came  over  that  afternoon  to 
have  a  last  talk  with  his  obdurate  neighbor. 

"It  won't  do  any  good,  Rhett,"  he  de- 
clared. "They're  bound  to  git  ye  sooner 
94 


THE   DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

or  later,  dead  or  alive.  Now  what's  the  use 
o'  bein'  so  confounded  pigheaded  an'  con- 
trary ?  Why  don't  you  jest  make  up  your 
mind  to  go  like  a  man  an'  hev  done  with  it, 
fer  your  wife's  sake,  an'  your  children's 
sake,  an'  your  country's  sake,  by  cracky! 
That  9s  what  I  say." 

And  Bannister  replied :  — 

"I  would  be  less  than  a  man,  Seth,  if  I 
yielded  principle  and  pride,  and  humbled 
and  stultified  myself  like  a  coward,  in  order 
to  make  it  easy  for  my  family  and  myself. 
No  matter  what  the  outcome  of  this  awful 
struggle  may  be,  no  matter  what  becomes 
of  me  in  this  crisis,  I  intend  that  my  chil- 
dren and  my  children's  children  shall  say 
of  me,  in  the  days  to  come :  *  He  kept  his 
judgment  and  his  conscience  clear.'  I  will 
not  yield,  Seth,  I  will  not  yield." 

And  that  ended  the  argument,  and  Seth 
Mills  limped  back  home,  discouraged,  sad- 
dened, angry,  that  his  neighbor,  whom  he 
loved  for  his  many  kindnesses  and  sterling 
character,  should  be  so  blind  to  his  own 
95 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

interests,  so  obstinate,  so  childish,  so  utterly 
unreasonable. 

That  night,  some  time  after  midnight, 
Bob  was  wakened  from  a  troubled  sleep, 
more  by  the  feeling  that  something  was 
going  wrong  than  by  any  actual  noises  that 
he  heard.  He  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened, 
and,  from  somewhere  outside  the  house,  the 
sound  of  low  voices  came  distinctly  to  his 
ears.  He  leaped  to  the  floor,  thinking  that 
at  last  the  provost-guard  had  come  to  ap- 
prehend his  father,  and  had  chosen  the 
night-time  for  their  errand,  thinking  the 
more  easily  to  find  him.  Hastily  slipping 
on  his  shoes  and  trousers,  he  started  down 
the  hall.  By  a  ray  of  moonlight  which  fell 
through  the  hall- window  he  discovered  his 
mother  standing  at  the  door  of  her  room, 
fully  dressed. 

"Oh,  Rob,"  she  whispered,  "be  still! 
be  still!" 

When  he  came  closer  to  her  he  saw  that 
she  had  been  weeping  and  that  her  face  was 
white  with  fear. 

96 


THE  DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

"Where's  father?"  he  asked. 

"Hush!  He's  not  here.  He  went  out 
after  you  went  to  bed.  He's  been  away 
all  night.  Oh,  Robbie,  look  here!" 

She  took  his  hand  and  led  him  to  the  win- 
dow of  her  room  and  pointed  out  into  the 
road.  Distinctly,  in  the  moonlight,  he  saw 
a  man  in  uniform,  carrying  a  gun,  pacing 
back  and  forth  along  the  road  in  front 
of  the  house.  Then  she  took  him  to  the 
hall- window,  and  showed  him  another  sol* 
dier  leaning  carelessly  against  the  garden 
fence,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  rear  of  the 
house. 

"There  are  four  of  them,"  she  said. 
"They  came  a  few  minutes  ago.  I  saw 
them  come  down  the  road.  They  have 
surrounded  the  house." 

"But,  father,"  repeated  Bob;  " where 's 
father?" 

"Hush,  Robbie,  hush!  They  won't  find 
him.  They  think  he's  here  in  the  house, 
but  he  is  n't.  He  left  it  long  before  they 


came." 


97 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

"But,  where  is  he,  mother?  I  insist  on 
knowing." 

"Don't  talk  so  loud,  Robbie.  You'll 
waken  Louise.  They'll  hear  you." 

"Did  he  go  to  the  woods,  mother?  to 
the  barn?  to  the  shop?  where?" 

"  Hush !  my  boy,  hush !  Don't  whisper  it. 
He  went  to  the  shop.  He's  in  —  Robbie, 
listen,  he's  in  the  windmill  tower.  He  has 
his  gun  with  him,  and  his  revolver.  He 's 
going  to  —  to  —  " 

She  reeled  and  fell,  fainting  and  ex- 
hausted, into  the  boy's  arms,  and  he  led  and 
dragged  her  back  into  her  own  room,  and 
laid  her  tenderly  on  her  bed.  He  chafed  her 
hands  and  bathed  her  face,  and  by  and  by 
she  returned  to  consciousness,  and  told 
him  in  more  detail  of  the  manner  in  which 
his  father  had  left  the  house,  and  of  the 
coming  of  the  soldiers.  But  she  never 
loosened  her  clasp  of  his  hand  until  the 
gray  light  in  the  eastern  sky  announced  the 
approach  of  dawn. 

Then  there  came  a  knocking  at  the  hall- 
98 


THE  DRAFTED   COPPERHEAD 

door  of  the  house.  Bob  released  his  hand 
from  his  mother's,  and  slipped  quietly  into 
his  own  room  and  began  to  put  on  the  rest 
of  his  clothes.  But,  long  before  he  had 
finished,  the  knocking  was  repeated.  It 
came  louder,  more  persistently.  He  made 
haste  to  be  ready,  but,  before  he  could 
leave  his  room,  the  knocking  was  again  re- 
newed, with  strokes  that  resounded  through 
the  house.  Somehow  it  reminded  him  of 
the  knocking  at  the  gate  in  Macbeth,  and 
of  the  awful  tragedy  which  the  opening  of 
that  gate  was  to  disclose.  What  tragedy 
would  follow  the  knocking  at  the  door  of 
the  house  of  Bannister? 


CHAPTER  V 

AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

AS  Bob  descended  the  stairs  to  open  the 
hall-door  in  response  to  the  knock- 
ing, his  mother  stood  on  the  upper  landing, 
trembling  with  excitement  and  fear.  When 
the  door  was  finally  opened,  she  could  see, 
dimly  outlined  in  the  doorway,  a  man 
dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  sergeant  in  the 
army  of  the  United  States. 

"We  have  come,"  he  said  to  Bob,  "by 
order  of  the  provost-marshal,  to  arrest  Rhett 
Bannister,  who  has  been  drafted  and  has 
failed  to  respond." 

The  man  was  courteous  in  manner,  but 
firm  of  speech. 

"He  is  not  here,"  replied  Bob. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  man,  "but  we 
believe  he  is  here.  He  was  in  this  house 
last  night.  To  the  best  of  our  knowledge 
100 


AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

he  has  not  left  it.   We  shall  be  obliged  to 
search  the  premises." 

"You  may  do  so,"  answered  Bob,  "but 
I  assure  you  he  is  not  here." 

Without  waiting  to  discuss  the  matter, 
the  sergeant  stepped  into  the  hall,  followed 
by  a  private  in  uniform.  Outside,  the  house- 
doors  were  guarded  by  the  two  soldiers  who 
remained. 

If  Rhett  Bannister  were  within,  there 
would  be  no  chance  for  him  to  escape.  The 
sergeant  pushed  his  way  into  the  parlor  and 
sitting-room,  threw  open  the  blinds,  and 
looked  carefully  about  him.  He  went  into 
the  dining-room,  raised  the  shades,  and 
examined  the  pantries  and  the  kitchen. 
He  procured  a  lantern,  went  into  the  cellar 
and  searched  every  nook  and  corner  of  it. 

"It  is  necessary  for  me,"  he  said  when 
he  came  back  up  the  cellar-stairs,  "to  ask 
permission  to  go  into  the  second  story.  Who 
is  up  there?" 

"My  mother  and  my  young  sister,"  re- 
plied Bob. 

101 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

"Will  you  kindly  go  ahead  and  tell  them 
that  we  are  coming.  I  shall  have  to  examine 
every  room." 

"You  may  go  now/' said  the  boy.  "My 
mother  is  dressed." 

So  they  went,  all  three,  upstairs.  The 
soldiers  peered  into  the  room  where  Louise, 
undisturbed  by  the  noise,  still  slept  peace- 
fully on.  In  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Bannis- 
ter the  sergeant  removed  his  cap. 

"I  regret  this  necessity,  madam,"  he 
said,  "but  we  are  under  orders  to  arrest 
Rhett  Bannister,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  make 
this  search." 

The  woman  was  too  much  frightened  to 
reply,  so  the  party  went  on  into  the  other 
rooms,  up  the  ladder  into  the  attic,  into  all 
the  corners  and  closets,  everywhere.  When 
the  search  was  completed,  the  sergeant  came 
back  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  addressed 
Mrs.  Bannister. 

"You  are  Rhett  Bannister's  wife?" 

"Yes,"  tremblingly,  "yes,  I  am  his  wife." 

"I  am  sorry,  but  your  husband  is  now 
102 


AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

classed  as  a  deserter.  If  he  is  arrested  he 
becomes  subject  to  the  death  penalty.  I 
believe  that  only  a  prompt  surrender  on 
his  part  will  lead  to  a  suspension  or  abate- 
ment of  his  sentence.  If  you  know  where 
he  is  I  would  advise  you,  for  your  own 
sake,  to  urge  him  to  give  himself  up  at 


once." 


She  turned  to  Bob,  appealingly. 

"Do  I  have  to  tell,  Robbie?  Do  I?  Do 
I  have  to?  Would  it  be  better?" 

"No,  mother,  you  don't  have  to,  and  it 
would  n't  be  better.  Father  has  made  up 
his  mind  what  he  wants  to  do,  and  we  have 
no  right  to  interfere  with  his  plans." 

The  frightened  woman  was  clinging  to 
Bob's  arm  and  looking  up  tearfully  into 
his  face. 

"I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  add,"  said 
the  sergeant,  "that  all  persons  who  aid  and 
abet  a  deserter  in  his  efforts  to  escape  ar- 
rest, are  classed  as  co-conspirators  with  him, 
and  as  traitors  to  their  country,  and  are  sub- 
ject to  punishment  accordingly.  So,  if 
103 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

either  of  you  have  any  knowledge  as  to 
Rhett  Bannister's  whereabouts,  I  — " 

But  at  this  point  the  terrified  woman 
gave  way  completely;  the  sympathizing 
sergeant  turned  away  from  her,  and  Bob 
led  her,  sobbing  convulsively,  back  to  her 
own  room.  When  he  was  again  able  to  leave 
her  and  go  downstairs,  he  found  that  the 
soldiers  had  made  a  thorough  search  of  the 
out-of-door  premises,  and  were  just  re- 
turning from  the  shop,  the  lock  on  the  door 
of  which  they  had  forced,  and  the  interior 
of  which  they  had  explored.  Strangely 
enough,  it  had  not  occurred  to  them  to  ex- 
amine the  tower  of  the  windmill.  There 
was  nothing  about  it,  either  in  the  shop  or 
on  the  outside,  which  would  indicate  to  the 
casual  observer  that  it  might  become  a 
hiding-place  for  a  fugitive.  If  it  had  oc- 
curred to  them,  and  they  had  proceeded 
with  such  a  search,  the  tragedy  which  Bob 
feared  would  surely  have  come.  For  Rhett 
Bannister,  standing  in  his  cramped  quarters 
within  the  tower,  watching,  through  his 
104 


AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

port-hole,  the  movements  of  the  soldiers 
about  his  house  and  yard,  and  their  ap- 
proach to  the  shop,  listening  to  the  break- 
ing of  the  lock  on  the  shop-door,  and  to 
the  exploration  going  on  beneath  him,  was 
ready,  on  the  instant  of  discovery,  from  his 
point  of  advantage,  to  shoot  to  kill  any 
person  who  attempted  to  force  him  from 
his  place  of  concealment.  Yet,  for  that 
morning  at  least,  a  merciful  Providence  so 
blinded  the  eyes  and  dulled  the  wits  of  those 
soldiers  as  to  save  Rhett  Bannister  from 
the  disgrace  and  horror  of  shedding  an- 
other's blood. 

When  Bob  came  out  on  the  kitchen 
porch  and  glanced  involuntarily  and  fear- 
fully up  at  the  windmill  tower,  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  rifle-barrel  through  one  of  the 
small  dark  openings  his  father  had  made, 
and  knew,  on  the  instant,  how  narrowly 
the  household  had  escaped  a  tragedy.  For, 
even  as  he  looked,  the  soldiers  were  coming 
back,  by  the  garden-path,  to  the  house. 
The  young  sergeant  was  plainly  disap- 
105 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

pointed  and  vexed  over  the  result  of  his 
expedition.  He  had  hoped  and  intended  to 
have  credit  for  bagging  the  most  notorious 
copperhead  in  that  section  of  the  state.  And 
now  that  his  ambition  was  likely  to  fail  of 
realization,  he  could  not  quite  repress  his 
deep  feeling  of  annoyance.  He  came  back 
to  the  boy  on  the  porch. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  harsh,"  he  said, 
"but  from  either  you  or  your  mother  I 
must  have  definite  information  as  to  Rhett 
Bannister's  whereabouts.  I  believe  both  of 
you  know  where  he  is." 

"My  mother  is  already  so  frightened  by 
your  raid,"  replied  Bob,  "that  if  she  knew 
and  was  willing  to  tell,  I  doubt  whether  she 
would  be  able  to.  But  you  may  ask  me  any 
questions  you  like." 

"Very  well.  Do  you  know  where  your 
father  is  at  this  moment?*' 

"I  believe  I  do." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"I  will  not  tell." 

The  sergeant's  face  flushed,  and  he  bit 
106 


AN  UNEXPECTED   BREAKFAST 

his  drooping  moustache.  He  was  plainly 
angry. 

"I  have  already  told  you,"  he  said,  "that 
to  shield  deserters  is  an  offense  hardly  less 
treasonable  than  desertion  itself.  I  don't 
intend  to  be  balked  in  this  thing.  Your 
father  is  somewhere  about  these  premises. 
I  know,  for  I  have  had  the  house  watched. 
He  could  not  have  escaped.  You  can  point 
out  his  hiding-place  to  me,  or  I  will  put  you 
under  arrest  and  take  you  before  the  pro- 
vost-marshal." 

The  boy's  face  paled  and  his  lip  quivered, 
but  he  was  still  resolute. 

"I'll  go,"  he  said,  "but  I'll  not  tell." 

"Very  well,  come  on!" 

The  sergeant  spoke  gruffly,  and  laid  a 
rough  hand  on  the  lad's  shoulder. 

"Let  me  go  first  and  tell  my  mother." 

"No.  It's  your  choice  to  go  —  go  now. 
March!" 

Then  a  better  thought  came  into  the  ser- 
geant's mind.  Down  on  the  Delaware  a 
good  and  anxious  mother  was  fearing  and 
107 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

praying  for  him.  The  thought  of  her  soft- 
ened his  anger. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "go  and  tell  her.  Tell 
her  anything  you  like.  But  sooner  or  later 
you  will  tell  us  what  we  want  to  know." 

Bob  hurried  upstairs  to  his  mother's 
room. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  "I've  discovered  a 
way  to  get  rid  of  these  men.  I've  offered 
to  go  up  to  Mount  Hermon  with  them. 
When  we  are  gone  you  can  let  father 
know." 

"  Oh,  Robbie !  they  don't  mean  any  harm 
to  you?" 

"None  at  all,  mother.  But  tell  father  — 
tell  father  not  to  go  into  the  windmill 
tower  again.  They  might  find  out  —  some- 
how—  that  that's  his  hiding-place,  and 
come  back  here  before  I  do,  to  get  him. 
Tell  him  not  to  go  into  the  tower  again, 
not  for  anything." 

He  kissed  his  mother  good-by  and  hur- 
ried out  into  the  hall.  His  little  sister  stood 
there,  clad  in  her  nightdress,  with  flushed 
108 


AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

cheeks  and  rumpled  hair  and  wondering 
eyes. 

"Good-by,  Dotty!"  he  called  back  to 
her  as  he  hurried  down  the  stairs.  "I've 
got  to  go  up  to  town  early  this  morning. 
I'm  off  now.  You  jump  back  into  bed  and 
get  your  beauty  sleep." 

In  another  minute  he  was  out  in  the  road 
with  the  sergeant  and  his  three  men,  and 
they  went  marching  away  toward  Mount 
Hermon.  The  young  officer  was  inclined 
to  be  silent  and  severe  at  first,  but  he  soon 
thawed  out,  and  then  Bob  found  his  con- 
versation to  be  most  interesting.  He  said, 
in  answer  to  the  boy's  inquiry,  that  he 
had  been  in  the  service  since  almost  the 
beginning  of  the  war.  He  had  been  with 
McClellan  all  through  the  Peninsular  Cam- 
paign. He  had  fought  at  Antietam  and  at 
Fredericksburg  and  Gettysburg.  In  that 
last  great  battle  a  bullet  had  pierced  his 
thigh,  severing  a  small  artery,  and  he 
had  nearly  bled  to  death  before  receiving 
surgical  attention.  But  he  was  almost 
109 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

well  now,  and  ready  again  for  active  serv- 
ice. 

And  as  they  walked  on,  and  the  young 
man  told  of  his  battles  and  his  marches  and 
his  wounds,  of  the  glory  of  fighting  for  the 
old  flag,  and  of  his  ardent  hope  for  ultimate 
victory  and  peace,  and  above  all,  of  his 
reverence  for  the  great  and  noble  Presi- 
dent at  Washington,  whom  all  the  soldiers 
loved  and  honored,  and  for  whom  they 
would  cheerfully  have  died,  Bob  felt  the 
tides  of  patriotism  rising  high  and  higher 
in  his  breast;  and,  notwithstanding  the 
errand  which  the  young  soldier  had  tried 
his  best  to  perform,  the  boy  could  not  help 
feeling  in  his  heart  that  here  indeed  was 
a  hero  worthy  of  his  admiration. 

Absorbed  in  the  story,  carried  away  by 
his  enthusiasm  for  a  cause  which  could 
command  such  fealty  as  this,  he  forgot,  for 
the  time,  that  his  father,  a  despised  copper- 
head, a  fugitive  from  the  execution  of  the 
draft,  with  the  penalty  for  desertion  hang- 
ing over  his  head,  was  still  back  at  the  old 
110 


AN  UNEXPECTED   BREAKFAST 

home,  ready  to  shed  the  blood  of  any  who 
might  dare  seek  to  apprehend  him.  He  for- 
got that  he  himself  was  under  arrest  as  a 
traitor,  charged  with  aiding  and  abetting  his 
father,  on  his  way  to  the  office  of  the  pro- 
vost-marshal, where  he  must  either  purge 
himself  from  contempt,  by  answering  the 
questions  put  to  him,  or  suffer  the  penalty 
of  his  disobedience.  So,  with  glowing  eyes 
and  flushed  cheeks  and  swiftly  beating 
heart,  he  told  of  his  own  hopes  and  beliefs 
and  desires,  of  his  own  longing  for  the 
ascendency  of  the  Union  cause,  of  his  faith 
in  the  great  generals,  Meade,  Sheridan, 
Sherman,  Grant,  and  of  his  absolute  de- 
votion to  the  one  overmastering  hero  of  the 
mighty  war,  Abraham  Lincoln.  And  when 
he  had  told  all  these  things,  with  an  ear- 
nestness and  enthusiasm  that  stamped 
them  as  unmistakably  genuine,  and  his  own 
patriotism  as  quite  unsullied,  it  is  small 
wonder  that  the  heart  of  the  young  soldier 
warmed  to  him,  and,  before  either  of  them 
was  aware  of  it,  they  were  the  best  of  friends, 
ill 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

At  a  turn  in  the  road  the  perspective  of 
the  long  straight  street  that  led  through  the 
village  lay  before  them.  The  leafage  of 
October,  red  and  yellow  and  glorious  along 
the  maple-bordered  highway,  grew  brilliant 
in  the  morning  light.  Back  in  the  valley 
below  them,  as  they  turned  and  looked,  they 
saw  the  fog-banks,  which  had  lain  heavy  and 
close  to  the  earth,  beginning  to  break  and 
drift  away  under  the  influence  of  the  morn- 
ing sun.  The  young  sergeant  bared  his 
head  and  gazed  in  admiration  at  the  rolling 
landscape,  as  it  broadened  away  to  the 
east. 

"  Beautiful ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Beautiful ! 
I  remember  a  morning  down  in  the  Shen- 
andoah  Valley  when  the  sun  rose  on  a 
landscape  much  like  this ;  and,  even  in  the 
stress  of  the  work  on  hand,  I  admired  it 
and  remember  it." 

"What  was  the  work,  sergeant?"  asked 
Bob. 

"  Covering  the  retreat  of  a  beaten  army, 
my  boy ;  one  of  the  gloomiest  tasks  of  war : 
112 


AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

on  every  side  the  evidence  of  disaster  and 
the  wrecks  of  battle:  abandoned  cannon, 
broken  wheels,  carcasses  of  horses,  the  suf- 
fering wounded,  and  the  unburied  dead. 
Oh !  war  is  a  terrible  thing  after  all  —  a 
terrible  thing.  To-morrow  I  go  back  to  it. 
I  report  for  duty  to  my  regiment  some- 
where down  on  the  Rappahannock." 

Bob  spoke  up  eagerly :  — 

"Then  you  won't  be  able  to  go  back 
to  —  to  — " 

"To  get  Rhett  Bannister?  No.  That 
duty  will  devolve  on  some  one  else  now.  I 
must  report  to  the  provost-marshal  at 
Easton  to-night.  It's  too  bad  I  could  n't 
have  had  the  credit  of  capturing  him,  he's 
such  a  notorious  copperhead.  Oh,  I  forgot ! 
You're  his  son,  are  n't  you  ?  And  I  have 
you  under  arrest,  taking  you  to  the  provost- 
marshal.  That's  strange!  Why,  boy,  you 
are  no  traitor.  I  never  saw  a  man  more 
loyal  than  you  are.  Indeed,  I  have  talked 
with  few  men  who  know  more  about  the 
war,  the  campaigns,  and  the  generals.  I 
113 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

never  heard  a  man  outside  the  ranks  ex- 
press more  genuine  devotion  to  his  country. 
How  is  it?  What  do  you  mean  by  having 
Rhett  Bannister  for  a  father?" 

"  I  can't  explain  it,"  replied  Bob, "  except 
that  I  know  he's  honest  about  it,  and  truly 
believes  he's  right.  He's  of  Southern  an- 
cestry, you  know.  His  father  was  a  South 
Carolinian.  I  can't  blame  him.  I  don't 
blame  him.  I've  tried  to  think  the  way  he 
does  about  it,  and  not  be  against  him,  but 
I  can't,  I  simply  can't!" 

"No,  my  boy,  you  can't!  But  you  can 
tell  me  where  he  is.  It's  not  yet  too  late  to 
get  him  and  reach  Carbon  Creek  for  the 
noon  train.  Will  you  do  it  ?" 

"No,  sergeant,  I  won't.  I'm  loyal  to  my 
country;  but  I'm  loyal  to  my  father  too, 
and  I  won't  betray  him." 

"Well,  I  admire  your  pluck,  but  I'll 
have  to  take  you  —  Will  I,  though  ?  —  is 
it  my  duty?  Say,  boys!"  he  called  to  the 
three  private  soldiers  who  had  preceded 
them;  "boys,  halt!" 
114 


AN   UNEXPECTED   BREAKFAST 

The  men  stopped  and  wheeled  round  to 
tace  their  commander. 

"Soldiers,"  he  said,  "you  know  why  I'm 
taking  this  boy.  I  considered  his  conduct 
treasonable  in  not  disclosing  his  father's 
hiding-place.  But  I  find  that  in  reality  he 
is  just  as  loyal  as  any  one  of  us,  except  that 
he  knows  his  father's  secret  and  refuses  to 
give  it  away.  Now  what  shall  we  do  with 
him?" 

They  had  reached  a  point  in  front  of  the 
dwelling-house  of  Sarah  Jane  Stark.  The 
men  looked  in  on  the  smooth  green  lawn, 
and  then  away  to  the  eastern  hill  range.  But 
before  they  had  made  up  their  minds  how 
to  reply  to  the  officer's  question,  a  woman, 
coming  down  the  walk  from  the  house, 
reached  the  gate  where  they  were  standing. 
It  was  Sarah  Jane  Stark  herself. 

"What's  all  this  about?"  she  inquired. 
"Bob  Bannister,  what  are  you  doing  here 
with  these  soldiers?" 

"I've  been  arrested,  Miss  Stark,"  re- 
plied Bob  modestly. 

115 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

"You?  Arrested?  Fudge!  What  does 
the  boy  mean?"  turning  to  the  officer. 

"It  means,  madam,"  replied  the  ser- 
geant courteously  but  firmly,  "that  this 
boy  knows  the  whereabouts  of  Rhett  Ban- 
nister, whom  we  have  orders  to  arrest,  and 
will  not  disclose  them.  We  are  taking  him 
to  the  provost-marshal." 

"What  for?" 

"To  compel  him  to  tell  where  his  father 
is,  or  punish  him  for  his  disobedience." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  The  boy  is  n't  to  blame. 
You'd  do  the  same  thing  yourself  in  his 
place.  Besides  there  is  n't  a  more  patriotic 
citizen  in  Mount  Hermon  township  than  this 
very  boy.  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about." 

The  sergeant  doffed  his  cap. 

"I  believe  you  are  more  than  half  right, 
madam,"  he  said.  "  I  myself  am  inclined  to 
think  that  he  may  do  us  more  good  right 
here  at  his  home,  as  a  somewhat  remark- 
able illustration  of  patriotism  under  diffi- 
culties, than  he  would  lying  in  a  guard- 
house living  on  bread  and  water." 
116 


AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

"Of  course  he  will!  Mind  you,  I've  no 
excuses  for  his  fool  father.  That  man's 
making  the  mistake  of  his  life.  But  this 
boy  is  all  right.  Say,  have  you  had  break- 
fast, any  of  you?" 

"My  men  and  I  have  not,  and  I  do  not 
think  young  Bannister  has.  We  will  stop 
at  the  Bennett  House  in  the  village  long 
enough  for  breakfast." 

"Oh,  nonsense!  The  Bennett  House! 
You  come  right  up  here  to  the  Sarah  Jane 
Stark  house,  and  I'll  give  you  a  better 
breakfast  than  you  '11  get  at  all  the  Bennett 
Houses  in  the  country,  and  it  won't  cost  you 
a  penny  either." 

She  turned  up  the  path  as  she  spoke,  and, 
after  a  moment  of  hesitation,  the  rest  of  the 
party  followed  her.  The  delay,  however, 
gave  the  officer  an  opportunity  to  make  a 
whispered  inquiry  of  Bob  concerning  her, 
and,  being  thus  assured  of  her  integrity 
and  loyalty,  he  no  longer  hesitated  to  lead 
his  little  party  to  her  house. 

"Now,  you  go  right  into  the  kitchen," 
117 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

she  said,  "all  of  you,  and  wash  your  hands, 
and  by  the  time  you  've  done  that,  break- 
fast'11  be  ready." 

And  Sarah  Jane  Stark  was  as  good  as 
her  word,  and  her  breakfast  was  as  good 
as  her  promises.  The  pleasant  sight  of 
it,  and  the  fragrant  odor  of  it,  as  they 
entered  the  dining-room,  was  something 
long  to  be  remembered.  When  they  were 
all  seated  she  turned  abruptly  to  the  ser- 
geant. 

"What's  your  name?"  she  asked. 

"Anderson,"  he  replied,  "Stanley  B. 
Anderson." 

:'Well,  Sergeant  Anderson,  you  ask  a 
blessing." 

The  young  fellow  flushed  to  the  tips  of 
his  ears. 

"I  have  never  done  such  a  thing,"  he 
said.  "I  beg  you  will  excuse  me.  At  my 
home  my  mother  always  says  grace.  Will 
you  not  say  it  here?" 

"Very  well,  I  will.   And  I  want  you  all 
to  say  'amen/  every  one  of  you." 
118 


AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

So  they  bowed  their  heads,  and  Sarah 
Jane  Stark  said :  - 

"O  Lord,  make  us  thankful  for  this 
food ;  confound  the  enemies  of  our  country, 
and  give  us  charity  in  our  hearts  for  all 


men.': 


And  every  one  at  the  table  responded 
heartily,  "Amen!" 

It  was  a  delicious  breakfast  and  a  delight- 
ful occasion.  They  all  said  so  afterward, 
and  many  times  afterward.  In  the  hearts 
of  these  boys  in  uniform  Sarah  Jane  Stark 
found  a  warm  place  at  once.  For  they  were 
mere  boys  —  not  one  of  them  was  over 
twenty-three,  and  this  woman  of  middle 
age,  with  her  big  heart,  her  bluff  manner, 
her  solicitude  for  their  comfort,  her  inter- 
est in  their  stories  of  the  war,  her  intense 
patriotism,  and  withal  her  broad  charity, 
came  suddenly  into  their  lives,  like  a  breath 
from  some  bigger,  better,  sweeter  world 
than  they  had  lived  in,  and  they  loved  her. 
And  one  day,  in  the  following  June,  after 
the  battle  and  slaughter  of  Cold  Harbor, 
119 


A   LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

one  of  these  poor  fellows,  lying  on  a  rough 
cot  in  a  field  hospital,  dying  from  a  dreadful 
wound,  dictated  a  last  letter  to  his  waiting 
mother  at  home,  and  another  to  Sarah  Jane 
Stark  at  Mount  Hermon.  And  when  she 
was  old  and  wrinkled  and  gray,  this  dear 
woman,  who  never  had  a  child  of  her  own, 
would  read  over  again  that  brief,  pathetic 
letter  from  the  dying  soldier  boy  of  Cold 
Harbor,  and  weep  as  she  read. 

So,  after  breakfast,  they  all  went  out  into 
the  beautiful  October  morning,  and  down 
the  footpath  to  the  gate  where  she  had  first 
found  them.  And  she  shook  hands  with 
every  one  of  the  young  soldiers,  and  wished 
them  God-speed,  and  early  and  abundant 
victory,  and  the  blessings  of  a  long  peace. 
Then  she  turned  to  Bob  and  said :  — 

"Now,  you  run  along  back  home,  and 
put  an  end  to  your  mother's  anxiety,  and 
tell  your  miserable  father  for  me,  that  the 
Lord  has  delivered  him  this  once  out  of  the 
hands  of  the  Philistines,  so  that  he  may 
enter  the  armies  of  Abraham  Lincoln  like  a 
120 


AN  UNEXPECTED  BREAKFAST 

man,  and  fight  for  his  country  as  he  ought 
to ;  and  somehow  —  I  can't  tell  you  why, 
but  somehow  I  have  an  intuition  that  he's 
going  to  do  it." 

And  the  sergeant  and  the  provost-guard 
stood  by  and  heard  her  and  said  never  a 
word. 

So  they  parted.  Sarah  Jane  Stark  walked 
back  up  the  footpath,  across  the  lawn,  to 
her  comfortable  home.  The  young  soldiers, 
refreshed,  invigorated  and  high-spirited, 
went  swinging  up  through  the  streets  of 
Mount  Hermon  to  their  appointed  rendez- 
vous. And  Bob  Bannister,  with  newer, 
bigger  thoughts  in  his  mind,  with  his  soul 
filled  with  larger  enthusiasms,  with  a  deter- 
mination in  his  heart  to  break  in  some  way, 
any  way,  the  galling  bonds  of  disloyalty 
that  girded  and  girdled  his  own  home, 
went  back  free  down  the  road  by  which  he 
had  come  an  hour  before,  a  prisoner  of  the 
United  States. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A    DESPERATE    DECISION 

mHROUGH  all  of  the  day  following 
JL  the  breakfast  at  Sarah  Jane  Stark's 
house,  indeed  through  most  of  the  succeed- 
ing night,  the  thought  and  ambition 
loomed  large  in  Bob  Bannister's  mind  and 
heart,  to  lift,  in  some  way,  the  dark  cloud  of 
disloyalty  that  rested  upon  the  household 
he  loved.  His  one  hour  with  the  soldiers 
of  the  United  States  had  inspired  and  in- 
spirited him  to  new  and  greater  effort,  to 
the  making  of  any  sacrifice,  in  order  to  up- 
hold the  honor  of  his  country  and  his  home. 
In  the  night  an  idea  came  to  him,  sud- 
denly, brilliantly  —  he  wondered  he  had 
not  thought  of  it  before.  To  be  sure,  there 
were  some  details  to  be  worked  out,  some 
difficulties  to  be  overcome;  but  the  plan 
was  feasible,  he  knew  that,  and,  if  he  could 
carry  it  into  successful  execution,  his  father 


A  DESPERATE  DECISION 

would  have  the  price  lifted  from  his  head, 
the  honor  of  the  family  would  be  saved,  and 
he  himself  would  have  the  joy  of  serving 
his  country. 

So  it  was  settled  and  he  went  to  sleep. 
On  the  following  morning  he  went  up  to 
Mount  Hermon  and  drew  from  the  bank 
half  of  his  savings.  The  money  was  paid 
to  him  without  question,  as  his  father  had 
long  before  made  formal  release  of  his 
legal  right  to  it.  It  was  money  that  he 
himself  had  earned,  most  of  it  in  former 
years,  by  carrying  the  mail  from  the  village 
post-office  to  Rick's  Corners,  the  next  set- 
tlement to  the  east  on  the  old  North  and 
South  Turnpike  road.  But  when  his  father's 
pro-slavery  and  anti-war  sentiments  be- 
came pronounced,  Bob  lost  his  position  as 
mail-carrier,  and  a  boy  whose  father  had 
been  among  the  first  to  enlist  as  a  soldier 
received  the  appointment. 

As  for  his  morning  tasks  at  home  that 
day,  he  did  them  with  a  vigor  and  spirit 
that  surprised  and  pleased  his  father.  In 
123 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

the  afternoon  he  finished  up  little  odds  and 
ends  of  work  that  had  been  awaiting  his 
leisure,  and  rearranged  his  small  store  of 
keepsakes,  treasures,  valuables,  things  that 
a  boy  of  seventeen  has  accumulated  and 
looks  upon  with  sentiment.  Some  articles, 
outgrown  by  him  or  become  useless,  he 
destroyed.  He  appeared  to  be  making 
ready  for  a  long  absence.  But  he  did  it  all 
so  quietly,  with  so  little  ostentation,  that 
no  suspicions  were  aroused  on  the  part  of 
any  member  of  his  family. 

Then,  when  everything  was  done,  doubts 
as  to  the  wisdom  of  his  contemplated  course 
began  to  assail  his  mind.  What  would  his 
father  say?  What  would  his  mother  do? 
What  would  his  little  sister  think?  The 
plan  that  had  seemed  so  brilliant  to  him  in 
the  darkness  of  the  night  loomed  shadowy 
and  doubtful  in  the  cold  light  of  a  dull 
October  day.  He  began  to  wish  that  there 
were  some  one  whom  he  could  take  into  his 
confidence;  to  whom  he  could  outline  the 
project  he  had  in  mind,  and  from  whom  he 
124 


A  DESPERATE   DECISION 

could  get  good  and  seasonable  advice.  Well, 
there  was  some  one.  There  was  Seth  Mills. 
He  was  old,  to  be  sure;  but  he  was  abso- 
lutely honest,  his  judgment  was  still  good, 
he  had  always  been  Bob's  father's  faithful 
friend,  and  his  mother's  kindest  neighbor. 
Besides,  having  no  children  of  his  own, 
the  old  man  always  had  set  great  store  by 
Bob,  and  the  boy  felt  that,  in  any  event, 
he  would  get  sympathy  and  disinterested 
counsel.  So  he  went  to  see  Seth  Mills.  He 
walked  down  along  the  path  by  the  spring- 
house,  and  across  the  meadow,  and  found 
his  neighbor  in  the  barn-yard  milking  his 
cows. 

"Uncle  Seth,"  he  said,  "I've  come  to  tell 
you  what  I'm  going  to  do,  and  see  what 
you  think  of  it." 

The  old  man  looked  up  but  did  not  stop 
his  milking, 

"  Well,  Robbie,  what  is  it  ye  goin'  to  do  ?  " 

"I'm  going  to  war." 

The  rich  streams  that  had  been  piercing 
the  boiling  white  foam  in  the  milk-pail 
125 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

suddenly  ceased.  The  man's  hands  relaxed 
without  falling,  and  he  gazed  at  the  boy  as 
if  trying  to  comprehend  his  meaning. 
"You  — you  goin'  to  enlist?" 
"Yes.  I've  thought  it  all  out.  You  know 
my  father.  You  know  what  he  thinks 
about  the  war  and  about  the  draft.  You 
know  he's  been  drafted  and  won't  go,  and 
says  the  soldiers  can't  take  him  alive.  Well, 
Sergeant  Anderson  said  that,  defying  the 
draft  that  way,  he's  classed  as  a  deserter, 
and  when  he 's  caught  he 's  liable  to  be  shot. 
Now  you  know  that  is  n't  a  nice  thing  to 
happen  to  your  father.  So  I've  decided  to 
do  this.  I'm  going  to  Easton  to  see  this 
provost-marshal  and  offer  to  take  my 
father's  place  as  a  drafted  man,  and  go 
wherever  they  choose  to  send  me,  pro- 
vided they'll  let  him  off.  I  think  they  will, 
don't  you?" 

For  a  moment  the  old  man  did  not  an- 
swer.   He  seemed  to  be  trying  fully  to  com- 
prehend   the   situation.    Then,    suddenly, 
he  took  it  in.  Rising  to  his  feet  as  quickly 
126 


A  DESPERATE   DECISION 

as  his  rheumatic  legs  would  let  him,  kick- 
ing over  his  three-legged  milking-stool  in 
the  operation,  and  barely  saving  his  pail 
of  milk  from  the  same  fate,  he  grasped  Bob 
heartily  by  the  hand. 

"Jest  the  thing!"  he  exclaimed,  "jest 
the  thing!  Here  I've  been  layin'  awake 
nights  fur  a  week  tryin'  to  think  up  some 
way  o'  savin'  Rhett  Bannister's  neck,  an' 
here  you  've  gone  an'  struck  it  the  first  time, 
by  cracky!" 

"You  think  the  plan's  all  right,  do  you, 
Uncle  Seth?" 

"  Sound  as  a  dollar,  my  boy,  sound  as  a 
dollar.  They'll  take  ye  an'  glad  to  git  ye. 
To  be  sure,  you're  a  leetle  mite  under  age, 
but  that  won't  make  no  difference;  you're 
big  an'  strong,  an'  you  can  carry  a  gun  an' 
fight  with  the  best  of  'em." 

"But,  will  they  let  father  off?" 

''Well,  now  I  sh'd    think  they  would. 

They  don't  want  no  copperheads  in  the 

army,  nor  no  deserters,  nor  — why,  I  sh'd 

think  they'd  be  tickled  to  death  to  swap 

127 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

him  for  you,  an'  call  good  riddance  to  him. 
That's  what  I  say." 

"It  looks  that  way  to  me,  too, Uncle  Seth, 
and  I  do  want  to  help  father  and  save  him 
if  I  can." 

'Yes,  an'  they's  another  thing  about  it, 
Robbie.  S'posin'  ye  git  to  go  down  there. 
S'posin'  ye  git  to  be  one  of  Uncle  Sam's 
soldiers  a-fightin'  in  the  army.  You  think 
your  father's  goin'  to  set  down  to  hum 
contented,  an'  let  his  boy  do  the  soldierin'  ? 
No,  sir-ee !  that  ain't  him.  You  mark  my 
words.  In  less'n  ten  days  he'll  be  down 
there  a-tryin'  to  git  to  take  your  place  stid 
o'  your  takin'  his'n.  That's  what  I  say. 
Now,  you  mark  my  words!" 

But  Bob  did  not  quite  believe  that.  The 
most  that  he  hoped  to  do  was  to  relieve 
his  father  from  the  effect  of  the  draft  and 
the  result  of  his  disobedience  to  it.  More 
than  that,  of  course,  it  would  give  him  the 
opportunity  that  he  had  longed  for  and 
waited  for,  to  fight  for  his  country  and  his 
country's  flag. 

128 


A  DESPERATE   DECISION 

So  they  talked  it  over,  the  boy  and  the 
old  man,  and  every  moment  they  grew  more 
enthusiastic  over  the  project  and  what  it 
was  likely  to  accomplish. 

"When  ye  goin',  Robbie?" 

"Why,  I  thought  — I  thought  I'd  go 
to-morrow  morning,  Uncle  Seth.  You  see 
I  can't  very  well  let  them  know  I'm  going. 
That  would  spoil  it  all.  So  I  thought  I'd 
get  up  early  to-morrow  morning  and  slip 
away  before  anybody  was  up,  and  catch 
the  early  train  at  Carbon  Creek.  You  don't 
think  I  ought  to  tell  them  before  I  go,  do 
you?" 

"No,  I  s'pose  not.  But  what '11  your  ma 
think  when  she  finds  you  ain't  to  home? 
What '11  your  pa  say?" 

"That's  the  only  thing  about  it  that 
worries  me,  Uncle  Seth.  When  I'm  once  in 
the  army,  and  they  know  where  I  am  and 
what  to  expect,  it  won't  be  so  bad.  But  how 
to  ease  their  minds  before  they  find  out,  I 
don't  know.  I  've  thought  over  it  a  good  deal, 
but  I  can't  quite  make  out  how  I'm  going 
129 


A   LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

to  do  it.  I  might  leave  a  letter,  but  then 
they'd  know  where  I  was  going  and  likely 
stop  me  before  I  got  there.  I  might  — 
say,  I'll  tell  you  what ;  I  just  happen  to  think 
of  it.  Suppose  you  kind  o'  happen  along 
there  some  time  to-morrow  forenoon,  and 
say  to  them  that  you  know  where  I  am 
and  where  I'm  going,  and  that  it's  all 
right;  and  if  I  don't  come  back  in  a  day  or 
two  I '11  write  and  tell  them  all  about  it. 
That'll  do,  won't  it?" 

"Certain!  I'll  put  their  minds  to  rest. 
Jest  leave  that  to  me.  They'll  know  't 
when  I  tell  'em  ye  're  all  right,  ye  air  all 
right." 

Then,  for  a  minute,  the  old  man  stood 
silent,  chewing  contemplatively  on  a  straw. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said  finally,  "as  I'd 
ort  to  encourage  ye  in  this  thing.  Mebbe 
it  ain't  jest  right.  It's  a-goin'  ag'inst  yer 
father's  wish  an'  will.  It's  a-makin'  yer 
mother  an  awful  lot  of  anxiety.  Mebbe  it 
won't  amount  to  nothin'  anyway.  Mebbe 
they  won't  take  ye.  Mebbe  they  won't  leave 
130 


A  DESPERATE  DECISION 

him  go  free.  Ef  they  do  take  ye,  ye  go  to 
war,  an'  ye  know,  or  else  ye  don't  know, 
what  war  is.  You're  jest  a  boy.  You'll 
hev  to  suffer.  You'll  see  some  hard  times. 
ire  ain't  use  to  it.  Likely  ye '11  git  sick. 
Mebbe  ye '11  git  swamp  fever,  an'  that's 
bad  enough.  Mebbe  ye '11  git  wounded, 
crippled  for  life.  Mebbe  ye '11  git  killed, 
an'  yer  body  buried  in  a  trench  with  a  hun- 
dred others,  like  they  buried  5em  at  An- 
tietam  an'  Gettysburg,  an'  nobody  never 
know  where  ye  lay,  nor  how  ye  died.  It's 
awful,  war  is,  it's  jest  awful,  an'  ye  ortn't 
to  go,  unless  ye  realize  what's  likely  to  hap- 
pen to  ye ;  and  I  ort  n't  to  encourage  ye  in 
goin'  unless  I'm  ready  to  shoulder  the  re- 
sponsibility fer  what  may  happen,  an'  I 
ain't  quite  ready  to  do  that." 

"  And  I  don't  want  you  to  do  that,  Uncle 
Seth.  I  know  what  I'm  about.  I've  thought 
it  all  out.  I've  thought  about  every  dread- 
ful thing  that  can  possibly  happen  to  me. 
But  before  I  get  through  thinking  what  may 
happen  to  me,  I  begin  to  think  about  what 
131 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

is  pretty  sure  to  happen  to  my  father  if 
things  go  on  as  they  are.  And  then  I  can't 
hesitate  any  more.  To  have  my  father  shot 
as  a  deserter,  why,  that  would  be  worse 
for  me,  and  worse  for  my  mother,  and  for 
my  little  sister  all  our  lives,  than  it  would 
be  to  have  me  tired,  or  hungry,  or  sick,  or 
wounded,  or  shot  to  death  in  battle  and 
buried  in  a  trench.  And  besides  that  I  want 
to  go  for  the  sake  of  going.  I  want  to  do 
something  for  my  country.  Abraham  Lin- 
coln wants  more  soldiers,  and  if  he  wants 
them  he  should  have  them.  I'm  ready  to 
go,  and  I  'm  going.  I ' ve  made  up  my  mind ; 
and  you  could  n't  discourage  me,  Uncle 
Seth,  if  you  talked  a  thousand  years!" 

In  the  gray  October  twilight  the  boy 
stood  erect,  with  flushed  face  and  flashing 
eyes.  The  spirit  of  the  time  had  entered  his 
soul  as  it  entered  the  souls  of  thousands  of 
other  boys  in  those  soul-stirring  days,  and, 
like  them,  he  was  ready.  Consequences 
were  of  no  moment.  His  country  was  call- 
ing, his  response  rang  fervent  and  true. 
132 


A  DESPERATE   DECISION 

So  Seth  Mills  spoke  no  more  discouraging 
words.  But  he  put  his  hands  on  the  boy's 
shoulders  and  looked  up  into  his  eyes,  for 
the  boy  was  the  taller  of  the  two. 

"You're  right,"  he  said,  "and  I'm  wrong. 
I  had  n't  thought  it  was  in  ye.  Go  on.  I'll 
stand  back  o'  ye.  God  bless  ye,  I'm  proud 
o'ye!" 

Tears  came  into  the  old  man's  eyes  as  he 
spoke,  and  coursed  down  the  furrows  in 
his  cheeks,  and  his  own  patriotic  heart  was 
roused  to  a  new  pitch  of  loyalty. 

When,  at  last,  the  final  arrangement  with 
his  old  friend  had  been  made,  and  the  little 
details  of  his  departure  were  settled,  and 
the  good-bys  and  hand-shaking  were  at  an 
end,  and  Bob  turned  back  into  the  meadow- 
path  toward  home,  it  was  almost  dark. 

His  father  sat  at  the  supper-table  that 
evening  with  apparent  unconcern.  He 
knew  that  there  were  no  provost-guards  in 
the  neighborhood,  no  one  with  authority 
to  arrest  or  imprison  him.  For  while  it  was 
true  that,  in  a  sense,  he  was  isolated  in  the 
133 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

midst  of  an  intensely  patriotic  community, 
he  was,  nevertheless,  in  more  or  less  con- 
stant communication  with  friends  and 
sympathizers  who  kept  him  well  informed 
as  to  the  dangers  which  surrounded  or  ap- 
proached him.  On  this  night  he  knew,  for 
instance,  that  Sergeant  Anderson,  with  his 
little  squad  of  soldiers,  had  returned  to 
Easton,  and  that  no  other  detail  of  troops 
had  as  yet  come  into  the  county.  He  knew 
also  that  means  would  be  found  to  warn 
him  of  the  approach  of  an  enemy  long  be- 
fore that  enemy  could  reach  him.  So  he 
ate  his  supper  with  his  family  in  peace,  and 
sat  quietly  at  his  table  reading  his  paper 
without  apprehension  of  danger  when  Bob 
started  to  go  upstairs  to  bed. 

"Good-by,  father!  "said  the  boy,  stand- 
ing at  the  stair-door  with  his  lamp  in  his 
hand. 

"Good-fo/,"  repeated  his  father,  "what 
do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"Did  I  say  good-by  ?  I  meant  to  say 
good-night.  But  you  know  I  never  go  to 
134 


A  DESPERATE   DECISION 

bed  at  night  any  more,  father,  without 
thinking  that  something  may  happen  be- 
fore morning  to  separate  us  —  forever." 

His  lip  trembled  a  little  as  he  spoke,  and 
he  still  stood,  hesitating,  at  the  stair-door. 

"Well,  Robert,  nothing  will  happen  to- 
night, I  know.  You  can  go  to  bed  without 
fear  to-night.  To-morrow,  maybe,  danger 
will  come  again,  we  cannot  tell.  But  to- 
night, I  believe  we  are  safe." 

He  saw  that,  for  some  reason,  the  boy's 
emotions  were  deeply  stirred,  and  he  imag- 
ined it  was  due  to  a  suddenly  augmented 
fear  of  what  might  happen  to  his  father. 

"You  don't  know  anything,  do  you, 
Bob?"  he  inquired  suddenly.  "You  have 
n't  heard  of  danger  immediately  at  hand  ? 
Did  Seth  Mills  tell  you  anything  that 
would  lead  you  to  think  —  ?" 

"No,  father,  oh  no !  I  was  just  —  well,  I 
won't  worry  about  you  to-night,  anyway. 
But  if  anything  should  happen  that  we  don't 
see  each  other  again  —  for  a  good  while  — 
I'd  like  to  have  you  think  that  while  I  be- 
135 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

lieve  in  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  in  the  Union, 
and  in  the  war,  I  believe  in  you,  too,  and  I 
would  n't  want,  ever,  to  do  anything  that 
would  seem  to  be  disloyal  to  you." 

"  No,  Bob,  of  course  not.  I  believe  that. 
I'm  sorry  these  Northern  notions  of  pa- 
triotism have  entered  so  deeply  into  your 
mind.  But,  when  you're  older  and  under- 
stand things  better,  you'll  think  differently. 
There,  go  along  to  bed,  now.  You're  tired 
and  nervous  to-night.  In  the  morning 
you'll  feel  better." 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  Bob  came  over 
and  clasped  it  tightly. 

"Good-night,  father!" 

"Good-night!" 

The  boy  went  on  to  bed,  and  Rhett  Ban- 
nister resumed  his  reading.  But  he  could 
keep  neither  his  mind  nor  his  eyes  on  the 
printed  page.  He  was  thinking  of  his  son 
upstairs.  Once  a  sudden  and  startling 
thought  came  to  him,  more  by  way  of  in- 
tuition than  suggestion.  He  dropped  his 
book,  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood  staring  at 
136 


A  DESPERATE   DECISION 

the  door  through  which  Bob  had  gone. 
But  a  sound  of  voices  came  to  him  faintly 
down  the  stairway,  natural,  reassuring 
voices,  and  after  a  minute  he  sat  down 
again  and  took  up  his  book,  and  whatever 
apprehensive  thought  it  was  that  had  so 
suddenly  and  strangely  entered  his  mind, 
he  dismissed  it  and  resumed  his  reading. 

Upstairs  Bob  had  found  his  mother  sit- 
ting with  Louise,  who  had  long  been  asleep, 
and  sewing.  It  seemed  to  him  that  when 
his  mother  was  not  busy  about  something 
else  she  was  always  sewing.  He  entered  the 
room  where  she  sat,  and  looked  at  her  a 
moment  before  speaking.  The  anxiety  of 
the  last  few  months,  the  harassing  dread 
of  the  last  few  days,  had  worn  her  greatly 
and  left  her  haggard  and  pale.  Bob  was 
almost  shocked  as  he  gazed  on  her  face 
under  the  lamplight.  He  had  never  seen 
her  look  so  before.  Would  his  conduct  of 
the  morrow  bring  to  her  added  sorrow,  or 
intense  relief  ?  He  dared  not  stop  to  think 
about  it  then.  He  knew  simply  that  he 
137 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

was  doing  right  and  could  not  change  his 
plans. 

"Good-night,  mother!"  he  said.  "I'm 
going  to  bed." 

"Good-night,  Robbie!  Come  here  and 
kiss  me." 

He  went  where  she  was,  and  leaned  over, 
and  she  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  and 
kissed  him.  He  started  to  go  away,  but  at 
the  door  of  the  room  he  turned  back. 

"  Mother,  if  anything  should  happen  to- 
night, —  we  don't  know  what  may  happen 
these  days,  -  -  but  if  anything  should  hap- 
pen, and  I  had  to  do  something,  I  don't 
want  you  ever  to  think  but  that  I  felt  I  was 
doing  the  right  thing." 

"Yes,  Robbie,  yes.  I  don't  know  just 
what  you  mean,  but  I  know  you  mean  to 
do  what  is  right.  And  these  are  dreadful 
days,  and  dreadful  nights.  I  don't  know 
how  it's  all  going  to  end.  I'm  in  terror 
all  the  time.  I  wish  your  father  could  do 
something,  or  you  could  do  something,  or 
somebody  could  do  something  to  help  us. 
138 


A  DESPERATE  DECISION 

If  this  keeps  on  I  shall  die !  Oh,  why  don't 
they  stop  this  cruel,  cruel  war!" 

Bob  went  back  into  the  room  and  put  his 
arms  about  his  mother's  shoulders. 

"There,  mother,  there.  It's  terrible! 
I  know  it's  terrible.  I  wish  the  war  would 
stop.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  to  stop 
it.  Maybe  I  can,  just  a  little.  But  the  only 
way  to  stop  it  is  to  give  Abraham  Lincoln 
enough  soldiers  to  defeat  the  Southern 
armies.  We  must  do  that.  At  any  sacrifice, 
we  must  do  it.  And,  mother,  I  shall  do  my 
part." 

She  did  not  appreciate  the  significance 
of  his  words,  but  she  wiped  the  tears  from 
her  eyes  and  said :  — 

"Don't  let's  think  about  it  any  more 
to-night,  Robbie."  And  she  kissed  him 
again,  and  again  she  took  up  her  sewing. 

Bob  went  over  to  Louise,  who  was  stir- 
ring uneasily  in  her  sleep,  and  kissed  her 
gently,  and  went  out  into  the  hall.  At  the 
door  he  turned  to  look  once  more  at  his 
mother. 

139 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"Good-night,  mother!"  he  said,  "and 
good  dreams.  I  think  we  shall  all  be  hap- 
pier soon." 

He  went  to  his  room,  removed  his  work- 
ing-clothes, put  on  his  best  suit,  got  to- 
gether a  few  things  and  put  them  into  a 
little  hand-bag  that  had  once  belonged  to 
his  South  Carolinian  grandfather,  put  out 
his  light,  and  threw  himself  down  on  the 
bed  for  a  brief  sleep.  But  he  slept  only  fit- 
fully, looking  often  at  his  watch  by  the 
light  of  the  moon  that  shone  in  at  his  win- 
dow; and  at  last,  at  four  o'clock,  he  rose 
for  the  last  time,  took  his  satchel  and  shoes 
in  his  hands  and  crept  softly  downstairs. 
He  went  through  by  the  kitchen,  stopping 
there  to  bathe  his  face  and  hands,  then, 
sliding  back  the  bolt,  he  opened  the  door 
and  stepped  out  on  to  the  porch.  The  mooiv 
was  shining  brightly,  and  the  night  was 
very  still.  There  were  as  yet  no  signs  of 
morning  in  the  east,  nor  any  noise  of  stir- 
ring men  or  beasts.  He  bethought  himself 
of  food,  but  he  feared  lest,  by  moving 
140 


A  DESPERATE  DECISION 

around  in  the  darkness  of  the  pantry  to 
seek  it,  he  would  arouse  some  of  the  in- 
mates of  the  house.  So  he  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  sat  down  on  the  porch-steps 
and  put  on  his  shoes,  and  then,  satchel  in 
hand,  he  started  down  the  garden  path- 
way to  the  kitchen  gate.  The  windows  of 
the  sleeping-room  occupied  by  Louise 
opened  on  this  side  of  the  house,  but  there 
was  no  possibility  of  his  being  seen  by  her. 
Once  in  the  road,  he  turned  his  face  toward 
Mount  Hermon.  When  he  reached  the 
front  gate,  he  stopped  and  looked  up  the 
path  toward  the  house.  From  his  mother's 
window  shone  the  faint  light  of  her  night- 
lamp.  There  were  no  other  signs  of  life 
about  the  premises.  Then,  suddenly,  there 
in  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  with  his  boyhood 
home  in  front  of  him,  and  in  the  dark  west 
toward  which  his  footsteps  were  pointing 
a  fate  which  no  man  could  fathom,  a  feel- 
ing of  profound  depression  fell  upon  him, 
a  sense  of  unutterable  loneliness  and  deso- 
lation. For  the  time  being  all  of  his  cour- 
141 


A   LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

age,  all  of  his  determination,  all  of  his  in- 
vincible patriotism,  deserted  him  and  left 
him  weak  and  homesick  and  miserable. 
In  another  moment  he  would  have  turned 
back  and  sought  the  safety  and  protection 
which  his  dear  home  offered  him ;  but,  even 
as  he  hesitated,  out  of  the  darkness  of  the 
east  there  grew  slowly  and  solemnly  clear 
to  his  mental  vision  the  tall,  gaunt  form, 
the  sadly  resolute  and  rugged  face  of  Abra- 
ham Lincoln.  And,  with  the  vision,  there 
came  back  into  his  mind,  one  by  one  and 
then  all  together,  the  overpowering  reasons 
that  had  led  him  into  taking  this  momen- 
tous step.  So  his  judgment  returned,  his 
thought  grew  clear,  courage  came  back  to 
him,  and  strength,  and  deep  determination, 
and  he  turned  his  face  once  more  toward 
Mount  Hermon,  and  plunged  ahead  into 
the  shadows. 


CHAPTER  VII 

OFF   TO   THE   WAR 

BY  the  time  Bob  reached  the  village 
the  sky  was  gray  along  the  eastern 
horizon,  and  a  faint  tinge  of  pink,  seen 
through  a  gap  in  the  hill-range,  announced 
the  coming  of  the  sun.  In  front  of  the  gate 
of  Sarah  Jane  Stark  he  stopped,  and  looked 
longingly  up  at  her  house.  Light  shone 
from  two  of  her  lower  windows,  and  a  wisp 
of  blue  smoke  curled  lazily  from  the  south- 
ern chimney.  He  thought  he  would  like 
to  go  in  and  tell  Miss  Stark  what  he  was 
about  to  do.  He  wondered  what  she  would 
say  if  she  knew.  He  felt,  in  his  heart,  that 
she  would  approve  his  course  and  bid  him 
God-speed.  However,  there  was  not  time 
to  visit  her.  He  wanted  to  get  through  the 
village  before  daybreak,  so  that  he  should 
not  be  seen  of  many  people.  So  he  gripped 
his  satchel  and  hurried  on.  At  the  next 
143 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

corner  he  turned  out  of  the  main  street, 
and  skirted  the  closely  built  portion  of  the 
town  by  an  outlying  way.  He  met  no  one 
whom  he  knew  until  he  came  in  again  to 
the  main  traveled  highway  beyond  the  town. 
This  road  led  directly  to  the  railroad  station 
at  Carbon  Creek.  It  had  been  his  purpose 
to  wait  here  for  the  stage  that  left  Mount 
Hermon  every  morning  for  Carbon  Creek, 
carrying  passengers  and  mail.  But  he  was 
in  no  mood  to  stand  still,  and,  besides,  the 
chilly  October  air  made  exercise  a  necessity. 
So  he  walked  quickly  along,  feeling  that 
the  farther  from  Mount  Hermon  he  could 
get  the  safer  he  would  be.  It  was  broad 
daylight  now,  and  the  stage  was  likely  to 
overtake  him  at  any  moment.  He  began  to 
wonder  whom  he  would  have  for  fellow 
passengers.  But,  even  as  he  wondered,  a 
horse  and  buggy,  coming  up  rapidly  from 
behind,  was  about  to  pass  him,  when  the 
man  who  was  driving  turned  in  his  seat  and 
looked  back  at  Bob.  When  he  saw  who  it 
was,  he  reined  up  his  horse  and  called  out: 
144 


OFF  TO  THE   WAR 

"Why,  Bob  Bannister!  is  that  you? 
Where  are  you  going  ?  Won't  you  jump  in 
and  ride?" 

It  was  Henry  Bradbury  who  spoke,  the 
crippled  veteran  who  had  left  an  arm  at 
Malvern  Hill  in  '62,  and  who  had  declared 
that  he  would  gladly  have  left  both  arms,  or 
even  his  life,  if  only  "  Little  Mac  "  could  have 
taken  Richmond  as  the  climax  of  that  unfor- 
tunate Peninsular  Campaign.  For,  some- 
how, after  that  campaign,  McClellan,  whom 
he,  with  a  hundred  thousand  other  soldiers, 
had  worshiped  as  the  one  splendid  hero  of 
the  war,  lost  lustre  in  his  eyes,  and  never 
regained  it  to  that  November  night,  when, 
at  Warrenton,  Virginia,  he  was  relieved 
from  the  command  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  And  yet,  to  this  day,  Henry 
Bradbury  will  not  permit  any  one,  in  his 
presence,  to  speak  harshly  of  McClellan. 

"No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Bradbury,"  re- 
plied Bob,  very  much  confused.  "I'm  not 
going  far.  I  was  just  waiting  for  the  stage 
to  come  along." 

145 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"Well,  if  you're  going  to  Carbon  Creek 
you  might  just  as  well  jump  in  and  ride 
with  me.  I've  got  lots  of  room  and  you'll 
save  your  stage  fare." 

Bob  hesitated  for  a  moment.  He  did  not 
know  what  embarrassing  questions  the 
veteran  might  ask.  Then,  suddenly,  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  accept  the  invita- 
tion. 

"I  will  go  with  you,  Mr.  Bradbury," 
he  said.  "I  think  I  would  a  good  deal 
rather  go  with  you  than  in  the  stage." 

He  climbed  into  the  wagon  and  they 
started  on,  the  old  soldier  driving  with  one 
hand  with  great  ease  and  facility. 

"I  might  as  well  be  plain  with  you,  Bob," 
he  said.  "I  don't  think  much  of  your  fa- 
ther, but  I've  got  nothing  against  you.  In 
fact,  if  what  they  tell  me  about  your  loyalty 
is  true,  you  deserve  a  good  deal  of  credit, 
and  I  wouldn't  be  the  last  one  to  give  it  to 
you." 

"Thank  you,  Mr  Bradbury!  My  father 
and  I  don't  quite  agree  about  the  war,  and 
146 


OFF  TO  THE   WAR 

about  —  the  draft,  but  I  don't  want  to  set 
up  my  judgment  as  better  than  his,  and  I 
don't  want  to  criticise  him,  and  I'd  rather 
not  hear  anybody  else  do  it." 

"  That 's  all  right,  my  boy.  I  'm  afraid  his 
obstinacy  is  going  to  cost  him  his  neck,  but 
I  don't  know  as  I've  got  any  call  to  try 
to  set  his  son  against  him.  Let's  change 
the  subject.  Going  up  to  the  station,  are 
you?" 

"Yes." 

"Going  to  take  the  train?" 

"Yes,  I  expect  to." 

After  that  for  a  few  minutes  there  was 
silence.  Bradbury  looked  Bob  over  carefully 
to  see  if  perchance  there  might  be  some- 
thing about  his  dress  or  appearance  to  in- 
dicate his  errand.  But  there  was  nothing. 
Finally  his  curiosity  prevailed,  and  he 
said :  - 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  inquisitive,  but  may 
I  ask  where  you  are  going?" 

"I  want  to  go  to  Easton,  Mr.  Brad- 
bury." 

147 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

There  was  another  pause,  followed  by 
another  question. 

"I  suppose  it's  none  o'  my  business, 
but  can  I  inquire  if  Rhett  Bannister  has  de- 
cided to  give  himself  up?" 

"I  think  not,  Mr.  Bradbury.  He  don't 
change  his  mind  very  easily  after  he's 
once  made  it  up." 

The  veteran  was  puzzled.  What  was  Bob 
Bannister  going  to  Easton  for  ?  His  visit 
there  must  in  some  way  be  connected  with 
the  provost-marshal's  office  and  the  draft. 
He  could  have  no  other  errand.  Then, 
suddenly,  a  light  broke  in  upon  Henry 
Bradbury's  mind.  He  reined  his  horse  up 
sharply  and  turned  to  face  the  boy. 

"Look  here,  Bob  Bannister!  are  you 
going  to  enlist?" 

Bob  hardly  knew  how  to  reply.  He  con- 
sidered the  question  for  a  moment  before 
he  answered  it. 

"Well,"  he  said  finally,  "I  thought  one 
of  us  ought  to  go  to  the  war,  Mr.  Brad- 
bury." 

148 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

The  man  dropped  his  reins  and  grasped 
Bob's  hand. 

"You're  all  right!"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
wish  Abe  Lincoln  had  a  hundred  thousand 
more  just  like  you.  Richmond  would  be 
ours  in  thirty  days." 

"  But,  Mr.  Bradbury,  nobody  knows  what 
I'm  going  to  do,  and  I  wish  you  would  n't 
tell.  Maybe  I'll  not  be  able  to  do  it,  any- 
way." 

"Mum's  the  word.  Don't  your  folks 
know  ?" 

"No.  I  couldn't  have  gone  if  they 
knew." 

"Certainly  not.  Well,  my  boy,  Henry 
Bradbury  says  God  bless  you!  Do  you 
hear?  God  bless  you!" 

So,  after  the  ice  had  been  thus  broken, 
Bob  explained  fully  the  project  he  had  in 
mind;  there  were  a  score  of  things  to  be 
talked  about,  a  hundred  questions  to  be 
asked  on  either  side,  and  a  hundred  answers 
to  be  given.  And  before  they  were  quite 
aware  of  it  they  had  reached  the  station  at 
149 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

Carbon  Creek.  But  the  train  would  not  be 
due  yet  for  nearly  an  hour.  Learning  that 
Bob  had  not  had  his  breakfast,  the  veteran 
compelled  him  to  go  across  the  road  with 
him  to  the  Eagle  Hotel. 

"Get  up  the  best  breakfast  you  know 
how  for  this  young  man  and  me,"  he  said 
to  the  landlord.  "  Ham  and  eggs  and  pota- 
toes and  biscuits  and  pancakes  and  coffee 
and  all  the  fixin's.  I  want  you  to  remem- 
ber," he  added  to  Bob,  "I  want  you  to  re- 
member, some  morning  when  you're  eat- 
ing hard-tack  and  salt  pork,  and  drinking 
black  and  muddy  coffee,  —  I  want  you  to 
remember  the  breakfast  Henry  Bradbury 
bought  for  you  at  the  Eagle  Hotel  at  Car- 
bon Creek  the  morning  you  started  for  the 


war." 


And  Bob  did  remember  it.  Many  times 
he  remembered  it  in  the  days  that  were 
to  come. 

In  due  time  the  stage  pulled  up  at  the 
station,  the  train  came  in,  and  Bob  said 
good-by  to  his  veteran  friend  and  stepped 
150 


OFF  TO  THE   WAR 

on  board.  He  had  but  one  change  of  cars 
to  make,  the  one  at  Scranton,  and,  late  in 
the  afternoon,  he  reached  Phillipsburg 
and  walked  across  the  river  to  Easton.  The 
provost-marshal's  office  was  already  closed 
for  the  day,  and  Bob  had  to  content  himself 
with  finding  a  modest  hotel  where  he  could 
stay  over  night  and  wait  patiently  for  what 
the  morning  might  bring.  After  supper 
he  strolled  out  into  the  street.  Reaching 
the  public  square,  he  saw  a  hundred  newly 
arrived  drafted  men  formed  into  a  com- 
pany and  drilled  in  military  movements. 
They  were  very  awkward,  indeed.  Bob 
thought  that  the  company  of  boys  at  home 
could  have  done  far  better.  But,  later  in  the 
evening,  when  a  body  of  seasoned  veterans, 
belonging  to  the  invalid  corps,  reached  the 
city,  and  marched,  with  fine  precision,  up 
the  street  to  the  square,  and  stacked  their 
arms  and  were  dismissed,  he  looked  upon 
them  with  deep  admiration.  This  was 
something  like.  The  moving  ranks,  the 
rhythmic  tramp,  the  glistening  arms,  the 
151 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

stirring  music  of  the  fife  and  drum,  all  this 
had  a  fascination  for  the  boy  such  as  he  had 
never  experienced  before.  When  the  troops 
were  dismissed  one  of  the  officers,  meeting 
and  greeting  a  comrade  on  the  corner  where 
Bob  was  waiting,  stood  for  a  moment  and 
talked  with  him. 

"Yes,"  Bob  heard  him  say,  "we've  got 
a  little  provost  duty  to  do  up  in  this  end  of 
the  state.  There  were  a  good  many  in  some 
sections  who  did  n't  respond  to  the  draft. 
Some  of  them  are  already  in,  the  rest  we're 
going  to  round  up.  One  of  the  most  notori- 
ous of  these  fellows  is  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Bannister.  I'm  going  after  him  myself, 
when  I  get  through  around  here.  I'll  give 
him  four  days  from  now  to  make  his  peace 
with  Uncle  Sam,  and  if  he  don't  do  it  some- 
thing will  drop.  I'm  going  after  him  and  I 
intend  to  get  him,  dead  or  alive." 

The  soldiers  passed  on,  and  Bob,  pale  of 

face  and  much  troubled  in  heart,  went  back 

to  his  hotel  more  determined  than  ever  to 

take  his  father's  place  in  the  ranks  if,  by 

152 


OFF  TO  THE   WAR 

any  possible  means,  so  desirable  a  substi- 
tution could  be  made. 

Notwithstanding  his  anxiety  and  the 
many  noises  in  the  streets,  he  slept  fairly 
well,  and  at  nine  o'clock  on  the  following 
morning  he  presented  himself  at  the  office 
of  the  provost-marshal.  Many  were  al- 
ready waiting  to  see  that  officer,  and  Bob 
had  to  take  his  place  in  line  and  await  his 
turn.  Most  of  those  who  swarmed  about 
the  marshal's  office  were  drafted  men  who 
were  there  to  urge  their  claims  for  exemp- 
tion from  service  on  account  of  physical 
disability.  Many  were  present  with  substi- 
tutes whom  they  had  hired  to  serve  for 
them.  Some  who  had  failed  to  respond  to 
the  notice  of  draft  were  being  brought  in 
by  members  of  the  provost-guard,  to  answer 
for  their  neglect  or  disobedience. 

When  Bob's  turn  finally  came  and  he 
was  ushered  into  the  provost-marshal's 
office,  he  did  not  quite  know  how  to  state 
his  errand.  A  man  in  captain's  uniform 
sat  behind  a  long  table,  busily  writing. 
153 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

There  were  two  or  three  clerks  in  various 
parts  of  the  room,  and  soldiers  with  side- 
arms  stood  guard  at  the  door. 

The  provost-marshal  looked  up  from 
his  writing  and  saw  Bob. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what's  your  case?" 

"I  haven't  any  case,"  replied  Bob, 
"  except  that  I  want  to  enlist  in  place  of  my 
father,  who  has  been  drafted." 

"  Go  as  a  substitute,  eh  ?  Well,  you  want 
to  see  Lieutenant  Morrison  about  that, 
in  the  next  room.  Your  father  is  here,  I 
suppose,"  he  added,  as  Bob  turned  away. 

"No,"  replied  Bob,  "he  isn't.  That's 
the  trouble.  Nor  does  he  know  I'm  here." 

The  captain  laid  down  his  pen  and  looked 
at  the  boy  curiously. 

"That's  strange,"  he  said.  "What's  the 
reason  he  don't  know  ?" 

Bob  advanced  a  step  closer  to  the  mar- 
shal's table. 

"  Well,  he  is  n't  in  sympathy  with  the 
war.  And  when  he  was  drafted  he  would 
n't  report.  And  when  the  soldiers  came 
1,54 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

to  arrest  him  he  —  they  could  n't  find 
him." 

"  I  see.  And  you  —  why  did  you  come 
without  his  knowledge  ?" 

"Why,  he  wouldn't  have  let  me  come 
if  he  knew.  And  I,  I  believe  in  the  war.  I 
want  to  be  a  soldier.  And  I  thought  if  I 
could  just  take  his  place  so  he  could  stay 
home  with  mother  and  I  could  go  and 
fight  —  why,  I  thought  it  would  be  better 
all  around." 

"What's  your  father's  name?" 

"Bannister.   Rhett  Bannister." 

The  marshal's  face  clouded. 

"  Bannister  of  Mount  Hermon  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I'm  sorry,  my  boy,  but,  figuratively 
speaking,  there's  a  price  on  your  father's 
head.  He's  a  notorious  rebel  sympathizer, 
a  regular  secession  firebrand.  He  has  de- 
clared that  the  government  will  never  take 
him  alive.  Very  well,  then,  we'll  take  him 
dead.  But  we  can't  afford  to  accept  a  price 
for  his  freedom.  Our  orders  are  to  get  him, 
155 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

and  we  shall  do  it  if  it  takes  a  regiment  of 
soldiers." 

The  marshal  took  up  his  pen  and  made 
as  if  to  resume  his  writing. 

"Then  it's  no  use,"  inquired  Bob  weakly, 
"for  me  to  think  about  substituting  for 
him?" 

"Not  the  slightest,  my  boy.  But  if  you 
really  want  to  serve  your  country,  I'll  tell 
you  what  you  can  do.  You  can  enlist.  We 
need  men  and  we'll  be  glad  to  have  you. 
Any  recruiting  officer  will  take  your  ap- 
plication. That's  all,  isn't  it?" 

"I  guess  so;  yes,  sir." 

"Very  well,  good-morning!  Let  in  the 
next  man,  corporal." 

Bob  left  the  office  in  a  daze.  The  hope 
that  for  two  days  had  lain  next  his  heart, 
was  suddenly  blasted.  He  hardly  knew 
what  to  do  or  which  way  to  turn.  He  walked 
out  through  the  crowd  of  waiting  men,  but 
he  scarcely  saw  them,  nor  did  they  notice 
him.  It  was  too  common  a  sight  in  these 
days  to  see  disappointed  men  leaving  the 
156 


OFF  TO  THE   WAR 

marshal's  office,  for  any  one  to  comment 
on  this  particular  boy's  downcast  look  or 
halting  step.  He  went  out  into  the  October 
sunlight,  and,  threading  his  way  through 
throngs  of  citizens  and  soldiers,  he  walked 
down  the  eastern  side  of  the  public  square. 
Well,  it  was  all  over.  He  had  failed.  His 
errand  had  simply  served  to  emphasize  his 
father's  disloyalty.  What  now?  Should  he 
go  home,  or  —  The  marshal  had  said 
something  about  his  enlisting,  anyway. 
How  would  that  work  ?  He  had  wandered 
into  the  street  leading  to  the  bridge  across 
the  Delaware.  Suddenly  he  was  aware  that 
a  man  in  soldier's  uniform,  whom  he  had 
just  met  and  passed,  had  stopped  and 
turned  and  was  calling  to  him.  Bob  faced 
about  and  looked.  In  an  instant  he  recog- 
nized the  soldier  as  Sergeant  Anderson, 
who  had  arrested  him  and  marched  him 
off  to  Sarah  Jane  Stark's  house  for  break- 
fast. 

"Are  you  Bob  Bannister?"  asked  the 
sergeant. 

157 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"Yes,"  replied  Bob,  "and  you  are  Ser- 
geant Anderson." 

"  Exactly.  But  what  in  the  world  are  you 
doing  here  ?" 

"  Why,  I  came  here  last  night  to  —  Well, 
I  might  as  well  tell  you;  I  thought  they 
would  let  me  substitute  for  my  father." 

"  Oh,  no !  I  don't  believe  you  could  do 
that.  Have  you  seen  Captain  Yohe?" 

"Yes,  he  would  n't  let  me." 

"I  thought  he  wouldn't.  That's  too 
bad  after  you  came  all  the  way  here  for 
that  purpose.  It  will  be  a  disappointment 
to  your  father,  too." 

"He  don't  know  I  came." 

"  Don't  know  you  came !  Why  —  say, 
boy,  did  you  work  this  thing  out  yourself  ? 
Were  you  willing  to  do  this?" 

"Willing!  I'd  'a' crawled  from  Mount 
Hermon  on  my  hands  and  knees  to  be  al- 
lowed to  do  it.  I  want  to  save  my  father, 
Sergeant  Anderson.  And  I  want  to  help 
my  country.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  do 
both,  and  now  I  can't  do  either." 
158 


OFF  TO  THE   WAR 

"That's  too  bad!" 

"Say,  do  you  suppose  I  could  enlist? 
The  marshal  suggested  that  I  might  en- 
list." 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  you  could.  How 
old  are  you  ?" 

"Seventeen  my  last  birthday." 

"Well,  that's  a  little  under  age,  but  I 
guess  you  can  get  in.  Uncle  Sam  needs 
soldiers  pretty  bad.  I  guess  they'll  take 
you." 

"I  believe  I'll  try  it.  It  looks  this  way 
to  me.  If  I  get  to  be  a  soldier  and  have  a 
good  record,  then  if  they  do  get  father, 
whatever  happens  to  him  it  won't  be  quite 
so  bad  for  the  rest  of  us  if  I've  proved  my 
loyalty." 

"That's  right!  I  don't  believe  you're 
going  to  help  him  by  enlisting,  but  if  worst 
comes  to  worst  men  are  going  to  forget 
your  father's  disgrace  in  thinking  of  your 
bravery.  Will  you  do  it  ?  Will  you  enlist  ?  " 

"Yes,  Sergeant  Anderson,  I  will." 

"Then  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do.    You  go 

159 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

with  me.  In  an  hour  I  shall  start  back  to 
the  South  to  join  my  regiment.  I'll  take 
you  along.  I'll  get  you  into  my  company. 
I'll  get  you  into  my  mess.  I'll  stand  by 
you,  and  take  care  of  you,  and  share  with 
you,  because  you're  a  hero  already,  and 
I'm  proud  of  you!" 

The  sergeant's  eyes  dimmed  as  he 
grasped  the  boy's  hand  and  shook  it  en- 
thusiastically. 

"Thank  you!"  replied  Bob.  "I'm  no 
hero ;  and  I  may  disgrace  you ;  but  I  '11  go, 
and  I'll  do  the  very  best  I  can." 

"  Good !  Be  at  the  depot  across  the  bridge 
yonder  in  an  hour,  and  I'll  meet  you  there. 
The  train  leaves  at  eleven  o'clock." 

The  sergeant  hurried  away,  and  Bob 
went  back  to  his  hotel  to  get  his  baggage. 
It  occurred  to  him  to  write  a  brief  letter 
to  Seth  Mills,  and  he  did  so,  telling  him 
what  had  happened  at  Easton  and  giving 
him  permission  to  repeat  to  his  father  and 
mother  so  much  or  so  little  of  the  in- 
formation as  he  saw  fit.  Then  he  hurried 
160 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

to  the  railroad  station  and  there,  promptly 
at  the  hour  agreed  upon,  he  met  Sergeant 
Anderson.  At  eleven  o'clock  they  boarded 
the  train  for  Harrisburg,  and  from  thence, 
with  little  delay,  they  went  to  Washington. 
It  was  late  at  night  when  they  reached  the 
capital  city,  and  Bob  was  very  tired.  They 
passed  through  the  jostling  crowds  at  the 
railroad  station  and  sought  a  rooming  house, 
not  far  away,  with  which  Sergeant  Ander- 
son was  familiar,  stopping  on  the  way  to 
get  a  meagre  luncheon  at  a  near-by  restau- 
rant. They  were  not  long  in  seeking  their 
beds,  and  they  had  no  sooner  laid  them- 
selves down  than  the  young  officer  fell  into 
a  heavy  and  restful  sleep. 

But  Bob  was  not  so  fortunate.  The 
events  of  the  day  were  still  very  fresh  and 
vivid  in  his  mind,  and  he  could  not  readily 
dismiss  the  memory  of  them.  It  had  all 
been  so  novel,  so  exciting,  so  nerve-rack- 
ing, for  this  boy  of  seventeen,  who  never 
before  in  his  life  had  been  fifty  miles  dis- 
tant from  his  native  town.  Yet  he  was  not 
161 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

discontented  or  unhappy.  On  the  contrary, 
so  far  as  the  wisdom  of  his  course  was  con- 
cerned, his  mind  was  perfectly  at  rest.  His 
only  a,nxiety  was  on  account  of  his  father 
and  mother,  who  would  be  worrying  about 
him  at  home.  Yet  he  felt  that  he  had  done 
right.  Whatever  now  might  happen  to  his 
father,  permanent  escape  from  the  Federal 
authorities,  or  arrest,  imprisonment,  and 
death,  he  knew  that  his  own  record  as  a 
Union  soldier  would  help  to  save  the  family 
from  complete  disgrace.  Moreover,  the 
ambition  of  years  was  about  to  be  realized, 
he  was  soon  to  be  enlisted  in  the  ranks  of 
his  country's  soldiers,  and  march  and 
fight  under  the  folds  of  the  old  flag.  So, 
with  this  thought  in  his  mind  to  temper 
the  anxiety  for  his  father  in  his  heart,  he 
fell  into  a  calmer,  deeper  sleep  than  he 
had  known  before  in  many  months. 

It  was  late  when  they  arose  the  next 

morning,  and,  after  a  hurried  breakfast, 

went  out  into  the  streets.  It  was  Bob's  first 

visit  to  Washington,  and  he  was  deeply 

162 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

impressed  by  the  sights  and  sounds  that 
surrounded  him.  There  were  many  people 
moving  to  and  fro.  Small  bodies  of  troops 
went  marching  by.  Officers  in  uniform 
hurried  here  and  there.  Hospital  wagons 
carrying  sick  and  wounded  men  brought 
in  from  the  front,  went  trailing  through  the 
streets.  Everywhere  was  noise,  bustle,  act- 
ivity, color.  Yet  nowhere  was  there  gayety. 
There  was  no  laughter,  no  lightness  of 
look  or  word,  no  care-free  expression  on 
the  face  of  any  passer-by.  For  Washing- 
ton was  troubled.  Meade,  who  had  been 
driven  back  almost  half-way  from  the 
Rappahannock  to  the  capital,  under  the 
repeated  onslaughts  of  Lee's  depleted  but 
still  daring  and  determined  armies,  was 
just  now  taking  fresh  courage,  facing  his 
troops  about,  and  turning  back  once  more 
from  Centreville  toward  the  Rapidan.  Yet 
the  shadow  of  unnecessary  retreat  and  im- 
minent danger  still  rested  on  the  city,  and 
complete  confidence  had  not  been  restored 
in  the  commander  and  the  army  that  had 
163 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

fought  so  splendidly  and  successfully  at 
Gettysburg  in  July.  Even  Sergeant  An- 
derson, usually  buoyant  and  light-hearted, 
seemed  to  partake  of  the  prevailing  de- 
pression, and  as  he  and  Bob  made  their 
way  down  to  the  river  and  across  Long 
Bridge,  little  was  said  by  either  of  them. 

At  the  end  of  the  bridge  a  supply  wagon 
going  down  to  Alexandria  came  along,  and 
the  driver,  who  knew  Sergeant  Anderson, 
gave  both  men  a  ride  with  him  to  the  Vir- 
ginia city. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  one  of  the  trains 
that  ran  at  irregular  intervals  from  Alex- 
andria to  the  front  was  made  up,  and  An- 
derson, having  the  necessary  passports, 
was  able  to  procure  a  ride  for  his  compan- 
ion and  himself.  At  Bristol  station  he  made 
inquiry  and  learned  that  his  regiment  had 
gone  on  to  Gainesville,  and  thence  to  Au- 
burn, and  so  the  two  men  followed  after  on 
foot.  That  night,  as  guests  of  the  rear- 
guard, they  slept,  rolled  in  blankets,  in  an 
open  field.  It  was  not  until  late  the  next 
164 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

morning  that  they  came  up  with  Ander- 
son's regiment,  camped  under  the  shelter 
of  a  low  hill-range  near  Auburn. 

The  sergeant,  beloved  by  the  men  of  his 
company  for  his  bravery  in  battle,  and  his 
cheerfulness  and  gentleness  in  camp  and 
on  the  march,  was  heartily  welcomed  back. 
And  his  recommendation  of  Bob  was  an 
open  sesame  for  the  boy  into  the  good  graces 
of  the  entire  command.  So  it  happened 
that,  before  nightfall,  Bob  Bannister,  duly 
examined,  passed,  mustered,  and  clothed 
in  uniform,  became  a  soldier  in  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   LETTER   FROM   THE    FRONT 

I MHERE  was  consternation  in  the  house 
A  of  Bannister.  The  son  of  the  house 
had  disappeared  over  night.  His  mother 
was  distracted,  his  father  was  anxious  and 
angry.  The  morning  wore  on  and  he  did 
not  return.  No  one  had  seen  him  nor  could 
any  trace  of  him  be  found.  Toward  noon 
Seth  Mills  came  over.  He  was  able  to  quiet, 
to  some  extent,  the  apprehension  concern- 
ing the  boy.  But  he  would  not  tell  where 
Bob  had  gone. 

"  The  boy  knows  what  he 's  a-doinY '  said 
the  old  man,  "and  he's  perfectly  safe.  He 
won't  git  back  to-night.  He  may  be  back 
to-morrow  night  —  I  don't  know.  Ef  he 
don't  come  till  the  day  after,  I'll  tell  ye 
more  about  'im.  He's  on  the  right  track 
an'  he's  able  to  take  keer  of  'imself,  an' 
166 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

some  day  ye 're  a-goin'  to  be  proud  o'  that 
boy,  both  of  ye.  That's  what  I  say." 

He  stood  up  very  straight  and  rapped  his 
cane  three  times  on  the  floor  for  emphasis 
and  turned  toward  the  door.  With  this 
statement  and  this  promise  the  Bannisters 
had  to  be  satisfied.  They  knew,  from  long 
experience,  that  the  old  man  could  not  be 
forced  to  tell  more  than  he  chose.  So  the 
day  dragged  on.  Rhett  Bannister  had  not 
been  so  unhappy  before  in  all  his  life.  A 
dozen  times  he  thought  of  starting  out  to 
find  his  son,  and  a  dozen  times  he  aban- 
doned the  idea.  A  dozen  times  he  felt  that 
he  must  go  over  and  choke  the  truth  out 
of  old  Seth  Mills,  and  as  often  he  restrained 
himself.  He  surmised  something  of  what 
had  happened,  and  what  he  surmised  hurt 
and  angered  him. 

The  day  went  by,  and  the  night,  and  the 
next  day,  and  Bob  did  not  return.  The 
next  night  a  candle  shone  all  night  from 
the  porch-window,  that  the  boy  might  be 
guided  safely  to  his  door,  if  haply  he  should 
167 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

come  back,  and  all  night  Rhett  Bannister 
lay  sleepless  and  perplexed.  The  next 
morning  he  started  out  to  find  Seth  Mills. 
It  was  the  first  time  in  two  weeks  that  he 
had  left  his  own  premises.  He  met  the  old 
man  in  the  road,  hobbling  toward  the 
Bannister  home. 

"Seth,"  he  said,  "I  want  you  to  tell  me 
where  Robert  has  gone,  and  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  now.  Do  you  hear?  now!9' 

His  voice  rose  in  anger  as  he  spoke,  a 
look  of  determination  was  in  his  eyes,  and 
the  old  man  knew  that  the  time  had  come 
when  he  must  reveal  his  secret. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  deliberately,  "I  was 
jes'  comin'  over  to  tell  ye.  I  think  it's  time 
now  ye  ort  to  know.  Well,  sir,  the  night 
before  he  left,  Bob  come  an'  told  me  'at  he 
was  a-goin'  to  Easton  to  try  to  pervail  on 
the  provost-marshal  there  to  let  him  go  as 
a  substitute  in  your  place.  Ef  he  ain't 
back  to-day  I  expect  they've  let  him  do  it. 
Now  you  ?ve  got  it,  Rhett  Bannister,  straight 
from  the  shoulder;  make  the  most  of  it." 
168 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

For  a  moment  Bannister  did  not  reply. 
His  worst  fear  had  been  realized.  A  great 
wave  of  indignation  and  anger  swept  over 
his  soul.  He  stood  over  the  bent  form  of 
his  old  neighbor,  white-faced  and  quivering. 

"And  you!"  he  cried,  "you  of  all  men, 
to  encourage  him,  to  assist  him  in  this  re- 
bellious, this  disgraceful,  this  suicidal  folly! " 

And  again  the  old  man  stood  up  very 
straight. 

"  I  did  encourage  him,"  he  replied.  "  And 
I  glory  in  his  grit.  And  ef  you  hed  one  drop 
of  human  blood  in  your  veins,  you'd  be  the 
proudest  father  on  the  Lord's  footstool 
to-day." 

Then,  lest  in  his  wrath  he  should  wholly 
forget  himself,  Bannister  turned  on  his 
heel  and  strode  away.  But  he  did  not  go 
immediately  to  his  home.  He  felt  that  he 
could  not  yet  trust  himself  to  tell  his  wife. 
And  when,  finally,  he  did  go  to  her  he  found 
that  she  already  knew.  Seth  Mills  had  been 
there  and  told  her  that  since  he  had  seen  her 
husband  he  had  received  a  letter  from  Bob, 
169 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

saying  that  he  had  been  refused  as  a  sub- 
stitute, but  that  he  was  about  starting  to 
the  front  with  Sergeant  Anderson  to  enlist. 
Then  Rhett  Bannister  lost  entire  control  of 
his  tongue. 

"So,"  he  said,  "the  radicals  have  caught 
their  prey  at  last.  Such  Lincoln  bigots  as 
Seth  Mills  and  Henry  Bradbury  and 
Sarah  Jane  Stark  have  drilled  into  the  boy's 
mind  their  brand  of  pestilent  patriotism 
till  they  have  turned  his  head  and  sent  him 
off  on  this  wild-goose  chase  after  glory. 
Little  thought  have  they  for  his  health  or 
life  or  the  peace  of  mind  of  his  parents. 
And  when  he  dies,  as  die  he  will,  in  that 
awful  struggle,  his  blood  will  be  on  their 
heads.  Oh,  it's  horrible!  horrible!" 

He  had  not  thought  to  give  way,  like  this, 
to  his  passion,  and  the  next  moment  he  had 
repented  himself  of  his  anger.  His  wife  had 
thrown  herself  into  a  chair,  and,  resting  her 
head  on  a  table,  was  sobbing  hysterically. 
He  went  over  to  her  and  put  his  arms  about 
her  shoulders. 

170 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE   FRONT 

"There,  Mary,"  he  said,  "there,  never 
mind.  We'll  get  him  back  somehow.  He's 
too  young  to  enlist.  They  can't  hold  him 
against  his  will  or  ours.  We  '11  get  him  back." 

And  so,  little  by  little,  she  was  calmed 
and  comforted. 

Seth  Mills  had  told  her  that  Bob  would 
write  as  soon  as  he  reached  his  destination. 
But  the  day  went  by  and  the  night  wore 
away  and  no  letter  came.  Another  day  and 
another  night  dragged  their  long  hours  out, 
and  still  there  was  no  letter.  Word  reached 
Bob's  parents  from  those  who  had  seen 
him  on  the  way  to  Easton.  Congratulations 
on  their  son's  patriotism  and  bravery  came 
to  them  in  almost  every  mail.  Henry  Brad- 
bury wrote  to  Bannister :  — 

"If  you  are  not  proud  of  your  boy,  you 
ought  to  be.  I  saw  him  when  he  started. 
A  braver  boy  never  left  this  town.  If  you 
hang  for  treason,  he  will  redeem  your  fam- 
ily from  disgrace.  Get  down  on  your  knees 
and  thank  God  for  him." 

And  some  of  these  darts  sank  deeply  into 
171 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

Rhett  Bannister's  sensitive  soul.    At  times 
he  was  wild  with  rage,  at  other  times  he 
was  bowed  and  silent  with  grief  and  de- 
spair.   His  own  fate  mattered  little  to  him 
any  more.    His  whole  thought  was  as  to 
when  and  by  what  method  he  could  rescue 
his  son  from  the  hateful  hands  into  which 
he  had  fallen.  But,  even  as  he  pondered  and 
grieved,  there  crept  into  his  heart  a  softer 
feeling  toward  the  boy,  an  almost  uncon- 
scious sympathy  with  the  enthusiasm,  the 
ambition,   the  noble    unselfishness   which 
had  governed  the  lad's  conduct,  which  had 
impelled  him  to  seek  his  father's  welfare 
at  peril  of  his  own,  which  had  led  him  will- 
ingly, gladly  into  the  ranks  of  the  Union 
armies.   Indeed,  he  went  so  far  as  to  won- 
der if  he  himself  could  by  any  possibility 
be   mistaken   in   his   attitude   toward   the 
Federal  government,  and  his  view  concern- 
ing the  conduct  of  the  war.    If,  after  all, 
there  might  not  possibly  be  something  back 
of  all  this  attempt  at  coercion,  back  of  all 
these  vast  fighting  armies  in  blue,  back  of 
172 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

all  this  lavish  expenditure  of  blood  and 
treasure,  some  great  principle,  some  high 
ideal,  which  his  eyes  had  been  too  dim  to 
see,  but  which  appealed  to  the  hearts  and 
souls  of  large-minded  men,  and  fervent 
patriotic  youth,  and  led  them  into  untold 
sacrifices  that  that  principle  might  be  up- 
held and  that  ideal  maintained. 

On  the  fifth  day  after  Bob's  disappear- 
ance, the  boy  who  brought  mail  from  the 
post-office  to  the  residents  along  the  North 
and  South  Turnpike  road,  left  a  letter  at 
the  Bannister  house,  a  letter  which,  at  the 
first  glance,  Mrs.  Bannister  knew  was  from 
Bob.  With  trembling  hands  she  tore  the 
envelope  apart  and  drew  forth  the  sheet  of 
paper  inclosed.  In  her  calmer  moments  she 
could  have  read  the  letter  without  difficulty. 
Now,  the  words,  strangely  twisted  and  dis- 
torted, swam  before  her  eyes,  and  the 
whole  page  was  an  unsolved  mystery.  She 
ran  to  the  door  calling  to  her  husband :  — 

"Rhett!  Rhett!   Here's  a  letter —  from 
Rob  —  come  quick!" 
173 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

At  his  bench  in  the  shop  he  heard  her, 
and  hurried  to  her  side.  She  thrust  the 
letter  into  his  hands. 

"Read  it!"  she  exclaimed.  "Read  it 
aloud!" 

So  he  read  it. 


"!N  CAMP  AT  TURKEY  RUN,  VA., 
October  23,  1863. 

"  MY  DEAREST  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  :  — 
"I  know  I  gave  you  a  good  deal  of  anx- 
iety and  distress.  I  am  very  sorry  for  that, 
but  I  thought  I  was  doing  what  was  right 
and  now  I  know  I  was.  I  wrote  Uncle  Seth 
about  it.  I  suppose  he  has  told  you.  They 
would  n't  take  me  as  a  substitute  for  father, 
so  I  thought  I  would  enlist  anyway,  and  I 
met  Sergt.  Anderson  at  Easton,  and  he 
brought  me  down  here  and  got  me  into  his 
company.  The  only  regret  I  have  is  that 
father  is  n't  here  with  me  as  a  soldier.  I 
am  so  anxious  and  fearful  about  him.  It 
is  such  a  splendid  thing  to  be  a  soldier  of 
the  United  States.  I  am  so  happy,  all  ex- 
174 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

cept  about  father.  We  marched  here  to- 
day from  Auburn.  We  are  in  camp  here. 
They  say  Gen.  Meade  may  take  us  on 
down  to  Fredericksburg  and  have  a  battle 
there.  I  am  very  well  and  happy.  Oh, 
mother,  do  you  remember  how  the  boys 
would  n't  have  me  in  the  company  last 
summer,  and  how  bad  I  felt  about  it  ?  Well, 
they  are  still  in  Mount  Hermon  playing 
soldier  with  wooden  swords  and  guns,  and 
now  I  am  in  the  army  with  a  real  musket 
and  knapsack  and  canteen,  and  maybe  to- 
morrow or  next  day  I  shall  go  into  a  real 
battle  to  fight  for  my  country.  Oh,  mother, 
I'm  so  proud  of  being  a  soldier.  I  am  in 
Col.  Gordon's  regiment,  Co.  M,  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  Va.  Please  write  to  me.  I 
am  so  sorry  I  gave  you  anxiety  about  me, 
but  I  could  n't  help  it.  If  anything  hap- 
pens to  father,  tell  me.  If  he  could  only  be 
here  and  see  things  the  way  I  do.  Give  my 
dear  love  to  Dottie. 

'Your  affectionate  son, 
"ROBERT  BARNWELL  BANNISTER." 
175 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

When  he  had  finished  reading  the  letter, 
the  man  held  it  in  his  hand  and  said  no- 
thing. Neither  did  he  see  anything  in  the 
room  about  him.  His  eyes  were  piercing 
the  distance,  gazing  on  a  blue-coated  strip- 
ling in  Meade's  army  down  among  the  Vir- 
ginia hills. 

The  woman  was  the  first  to  speak.  There 
was  no  longer  in  her  face  the  strain  of  grief 
or  anxiety,  the  steady  look  of  pain.  Her 
eyes  were  shining  and  tearless.  Her  hands 
were  clasped. 

"Rhett,"  she  said,  "I'm  proud  of  him. 
He's  the  bravest  boy  in  the  world.  What 
a  splendid,  splendid  letter!" 

For  one  moment  the  mother's  pride  in 
her  offspring  asserted  itself,  the  spirit  of 
her  Kentucky  ancestors  shone  forth  in  her 
countenance,  and  she  spoke  the  words  that 
came  straight  from  her  heart  to  her  lips. 
Then,  suddenly  realizing  that  for  the  first 
time  in  all  their  twenty  years  of  married 
life,  she  had  expressed  a  thought  in  direct 
antagonism  to  the  opinion  of  the  husband 
176 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE   FRONT 

whom  she  honored  and  loved,  she  sank 
back  into  a  chair,  pale-faced  and  silent, 
and  let  her  hands  fall  dejectedly  to  her 
side. 

But  there  was  no  protest  from  him.  In- 
stead, with  a  look  in  his  eyes  which  she 
could  not  quite  fathom,  he  came  over  and 
sat  down  by  her  and  kissed  her  and  said :  — 

"We  are  both  proud  of  his  spirit,  Mary, 
however  mistaken  his  conduct.  But  he  is 
too  good  a  boy  for  us  to  permit  him  to  be 
lost  and  destroyed  in  this  awful  whirlpool 
of  war.  We  must  get  him  back." 

Late  in  the  evening  of  that  day  there  came 
a  knock  at  the  kitchen  door  of  the  Bannis- 
ter house.  When  the  door  was  opened  some 
one  from  the  outer  darkness  thrust  in  a 
scrap  of  paper  and  disappeared.  On  the 
paper  was  scrawled :  — 

"Rounding-up  squad  expected  at  Scran- 
ton  to-night.  Look  out!" 

When  Rhett  Bannister  read  the  warning, 
he  said :  — 

"It  makes  little  difference  now.  It 
177 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

simply  hastens  my  departure.  Doubtless 
the  end  will  be  the  same." 

To  his  wife  he  added :  — 

"I  start  to-morrow  morning  to  try  to 
reach  Robert.  The  probability  is  that  I 
shall  not  succeed.  But  the  least  I  can  do 
is  to  make  the  effort." 

Then,  gently,  calmly,  carefully,  he  out- 
lined to  his  wife  the  plan  that  he  had  in 
mind,  and  explained  to  her  why  there  was 
nothing  left  for  him  to  do  but  to  try  to 
reach  and  save  the  boy.  The  effort  might 
cost  him  his  life,  but  to  stay  at  home  was 
likely  also  to  cost  him  his  life,  and  to  at- 
tempt to  escape  from  the  Federal  authori- 
ties was  utterly  useless.  There  was  a  wild 
possibility,  the  thousandth  part  of  a  chance, 
that  he  might  get  to  Bob  and  be  able  to  take 
the  boy's  place  in  the  ranks.  That  was  all. 
And  when  it  was  all  said,  he  did  not  find 
her  nerveless,  or  hysterical,  or  in  tears,  as 
he  had  expected  and  feared,  but,  instead, 
in  her  eyes  there  was  a  look  of  resolution 
and  bravery,  across  her  gentle  lips  there 
178 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE   FRONT 

was  drawn  a  line  of  courage  and  determi- 
nation such  as,  in  all  their  married  life,  he 
had  never  seen  there  before. 

"I  am  content,"  she  said.  "I  believe  you 
are  doing  right.  Rhett,  dear,  no  matter 
what  happens  now,  come  life  or  death  or 
desolation,  I  shall  have  two  heroes  to  wor- 
ship and  dream  of  as  long  as  I  live." 

Strange  it  is,  and  divine,  that  in  a 
woman  so  weak  so  strong  a  spirit  will  de- 
velop when  the  right  hour  strikes. 

So,  in  the  bleak  darkness  of  the  next 
morning,  at  the  same  hour  on  which  his  son 
had  left  home  scarcely  a  week  before, 
Rhett  Bannister  kissed  his  wife  and  his 
sleeping  child  good-by,  and  set  forth  on  a 
mission  which,  even  in  his  most  hopeful 
moments,  promised  him  only  bitter  and 
disastrous  failure. 

Up  the  dark  road,  in  the  face  of  the  chill 
October  wind,  he  hurried,  into  the  streets 
of  Mount  Hermon,  past  the  home  of  Sarah 
Jane  Stark,  making  the  same  detour 
around  the  village  that  Bob  had  made, 
179 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

coming  out  into  the  main  road  where  he 
had  come,  hurrying  on  in  the  gray  light  of 
the  morning,  toward  his  hoped-for  destina- 
tion. But,  farther  on,  he  left  the  main  high- 
way and  struck  off  across  the  country  by  a 
little-traveled  road,  expecting  to  reach  a 
way  station  on  the  railroad  a  few  miles 
beyond  Carbon  Creek,  and  there  meet  the 
morning  train. 

In  this  effort  he  was  successful.  He  met 
no  one  on  the  way,  nor  did  any  one  at 
the  station  recognize  him.  But  he  had 
no  sooner  boarded  the  train  than  that 
happened  which  he  might  have  expected. 
Soldiers  in  uniform  arose  mysteriously  and 
one  stood  guard  at  each  door  of  the  car, 
and  another  one,  followed  by  an  officer, 
came  down  the  aisle  and  stopped  at  the 
conscript's  seat. 

"Is  your  name  Bannister?"  inquired  the 
officer. 

"It  is,"  responded  the  man.  "Rhett 
Bannister  of  Mount  Hermon,  at  your  serv- 
ice; drafted  by  the  government,  classed 
180 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

as  a  deserter,  and  on  my  way  to  join  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  in  Virginia." 

"  Good !  you  are  our  prisoner.  Have  you 
any  arms  about  you?" 

The  officer  hastily  and  skillfully  exam- 
ined the  prisoner's  clothing. 

"I  am  unarmed  and  defenseless,"  re- 
plied Bannister.  "I  will  go  with  you  will- 
ingly. I  am  not  disappointed  nor  surprised. 
I  only  ask  to  be  heard  by  any  officer  in  au- 
thority before  whom  you  take  me." 

The  mode  of  capture  had  been  simple 
enough.  The  provost-guard  had  only  to 
follow  the  conscript's  trail,  to  board  the 
train  at  Carbon  Creek,  and  be  ready  to  ap- 
prehend him  when  he  should  appear.  They 
did  not  handcuff  him.  He  was  entirely 
in  their  power,  and  it  was  apparent  that  he 
would  make  no  resistance. 

And  so  the  notorious  copperhead,  the 
man  who  had  denounced  Abraham  Lincoln, 
who  had  ridiculed  the  draft,  who  had  defied 
the  Federal  army,  was  at  last  a  prisoner  of 
the  United  States.  Within  five  minutes  the 
181 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

fact  of  his  identity  was  known  to  every  per- 
son on  the  train.  Men  hissed  and  jeered  at 
him  as  he  was  taken  into  an  adjoining 
ear,  and  women  looked  on  him  with  de- 
testation. At  a  station  where  a  change  of 
cars  was  made,  a  sympathizer,  with  more 
zeal  than  discretion,  attempted,  in  a  loud 
voice,  to  argue  justification  for  the  prisoner. 
But  his  oratory  was  soon  drowned  in  a 
storm  of  protest,  and  he  himself  was  buffeted 
by  the  crowd  till  he  was  glad  to  escape. 

So,  all  the  way  to  Easton,  the  despised 
conscript  was  mocked  and  frowned  upon. 
Accustomed  as  he  had  been  to  condemna- 
tion by  his  fellow  men,  the  experience  of 
this  day  was  the  most  bitter  and  degrading 
that  his  life  had  thus  far  known.  With 
little  to  eat,  and  no  comfortable  resting- 
place,  he  passed  a  sleepless  night.  In  the 
morning  he  was  brought  before  the  provost- 
marshal. 

"Captain  Yohe,"  said  the  officer  in 
charge, "  this  is  Rhett  Bannister,  the  Mount 
Hermon  deserter." 

182 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

The  provost-marshal  laid  down  his  pen 
and  looked  the  prisoner  in  the  face. 

"Your  son,"  he  said,  "was  before  me  a 
few  days  ago  seeking  to  be  substituted  in 
your  place.  Were  you  aware  of  that  fact  ?" 

"I  have  since  learned  it,  sir." 

"I  understand  that  he  afterward  en- 
listed and  is  now  at  the  front.  Is  that  true  ?" 

"I  believe  it  is." 

"How  is  it  that  so  unpatriotic  a  father 
can  have  so  patriotic  a  son?" 

"  I  hold  myself  to  be  as  much  of  a  patriot, 
sir,  as  any  man  in  this  state.  The  boy  and 
I  take  different  views  of  the  same  matter, 
that  is  all.  He  is  young,  barely  seventeen, 
and  easily  influenced  by  professions  of 
loyalty  and  the  glitter  of  arms.  He  has  no 
business  to  be  in  the  ranks.  His  place  is 
at  home  with  his  mother.  I  am  willing,  I 
desire,  to  be  substituted  for  him." 

"I  see.  The  scheme  is  a  pretty  one,  but 

we  cannot  permit  you  to  purchase  immunity 

from  punishment  in  that  way.      Neither 

your  son's  age,  nor  his  patriotism,  nor  his 

183 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

bravery  can  serve  to  effect  your  release. 
You  have  the  standing  only  of  a  deserter, 
you  must  be  dealt  with  as  such.  I  shall 
remand  you  to  the  officers  of  the  division 
and  regiment  to  which,  as  a  drafted  man, 
you  were  assigned.  They  may  shoot  you, 
or  hang  you,  or  do  what  they  will  with  you. 
I  am  through  with  you.  In  my  judgment 
no  power  on  earth  can  save  you  from  the 
extreme  penalty  meted  out  to  deserters 
unless  it  be  Abraham  Lincoln  himself. 
At  any  rate,  I  do  not  want  you  longer  on 
Pennsylvania  soil.  Remove  the  prisoner." 

No  wonder  Rhett  Bannister  received 
little  sympathy  or  consideration  at  the 
hands  of  his  captors  after  that  condemna- 
tion. Between  two  soldiers  under  orders 
to  deliver  him  to  the  commander  of  the 
regiment  to  which  he  had  been  assigned, 
he  was  hustled  and  hurried  on  board  train, 
and  so  off  toward  Washington. 

The  soldier  guard,  at  the  first  opportu- 
nity, purchased  a  pack  of  cards  and  a  bottle 
of  whiskey.  At  the  station  where  the  next 
184 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

change  of  cars  was  made  another  bottle  of 
whiskey  was  obtained.  The  smoking-car  in 
which  they  sat,  and  up  and  down  the  aisle  of 
which  they  reeled,  was  filled  with  the  noise 
of  their  harsh  orders,  their  rude  quarreling 
with  each  other,  and  their  coarse  jests  at 
the  expense  of  their  prisoner.  To  Rhett 
Bannister  it  was  a  bitter,  a  humiliating,  a 
degrading  night.  But  long  before  the  train 
rolled  into  the  station  at  Washington,  both 
drunken  soldiers  had  fallen  into  a  heavj 
sleep.  Nor  did  they  awaken  when  the 
brakeman  announced  the  station  and  cried, 
"All  out!" 

The  few  passengers  remaining  in  the  car 
rose  to  leave.  Bannister  rose  with  them. 
Not  so  much  because  he  desired  to  escape 
from  the  custody  of  the  Federal  authorities, 
as  because  he  wished  to  relieve  himself 
of  the  odious  and  repellent  society  of  his 
drunken  and  disreputable  guards. 

One  man, looking  at  him  askance, said: — • 
"  He  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  get  away 
like  that." 

185 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

And  another  one  replied :  — 

"Let  him  go.  After  such  a  night  as  he 
has  had  he  deserves  his  freedom.  But  I 
hope  his  guards  will  be  court-martialed  and 
shot." 

After  that  no  one  attempted  to  detain 
him,  and  Rhett  Bannister  stepped  down 
from  the  car,  a  free  man.  He  walked  lei- 
surely up  the  train  platform,  across  the 
lobby,  through  the  waiting-room,  and  out 
into  the  street.  Over  the  roofs  of  the  houses 
to  the  east  the  sky  was  beginning  to  show 
the  first  faint  streaks  of  morning  gray.  An 
all-night  restaurant  at  the  corner  attracted 
his  attention,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that 
he  should  be  hungry.  He  knew  that  he  was 
very  tired.  He  entered,  and  the  sleepy  and 
sullen  waiter  served  him  with  a  sandwich 
and  a  cup  of  coffee.  Refreshed,  he  went 
out  once  more  into  the  street.  It  was  very 
quiet  in  the  city  at  this  hour.  Only  a  few 
stragglers  were  abroad  and  they  did  not 
notice  him. 

When  he  reached  Pennsylvania  Avenue 
186 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

he  turned  up  toward  the  Treasury  building 
and  sauntered  slowly  on.  Not  that  he  cared 
particularly  which  direction  he  took.  But, 
in  other  days,  he  had  been  familiar  with  the 
streets  of  Washington,  and  some  trend  of 
mind  or  instinct  of  memory  led  his  steps 
that  way.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  per- 
manently escape,  that,  sooner  or  later,  he 
would  be  recaptured  and  put  to  his  pun- 
ishment, and  that  his  punishment  would 
be  the  more  hasty  and  severe  because  of  his 
temporary  freedom. 

The  hope  that  he  had  dared  to  entertain 
on  leaving  home,  that  he  might  be  per- 
mitted to  take  his  son's  place  in  the  ranks, 
had  now  quite  vanished.  Before  him  lay 
only  disgrace  and  death  and  a  stain  on  his 
family  name  in  the  North  for  generations. 
It  was  the  darkest,  most  desolate  hour  his 
life  had  known.  A  small  squad  of  soldiers, 
in  command  of  an  officer,  approached  him, 
marching  up  the  street  through  the  crisp 
morning  air  in  brisk  time,  swinging  their 
arms  in  unison  as  they  came,  and  the  thought 
187 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

entered  his  mind  that  the  best  thing  he 
could  do  would  be  to  surrender  himself  to 
them.  But  when  he  met  them  he  passed 
without  speaking,  and  they  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  him.  A  little  farther  on  a  crippled 
veteran  with  crutches  sat  on  the  curb  and 
asked  alms  as  Bannister  passed  by.  And 
this  hater  of  the  Federal  blue  thrust  his 
hand  into  his  pocket,  drew  forth  a  liberal 
sum,  and  gave  it  to  the  uniformed  beggar, 
without  a  word.  The  man  was  probably  a 
fraud,  but  what  did  it  matter  ?  It  was  doubt- 
less a  doomed  man's  last  opportunity  to 
do  a  charitable  deed.  So  he  passed  on,  up 
around  the  Treasury  building  and  along 
the  front  of  the  White  House.  It  was  almost 
daylight  now,  but  the  street-lamps  had  not 
yet  been  extinguished,  and  in  the  President's 
mansion  two  windows  were  still  brilliantly 
illuminated. 

As  Bannister  reached  the  corner  by  the 

War  Department  building   he  turned  and 

looked   back  at  the  White  House.    There 

lived  the  man  whom  he  had  ridiculed  as  a 

188 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

buffoon,  whom  he  had  denounced  as  a 
tyrant,  whom  he  had  decried  as  a  male- 
factor. And  the  remark  made  by  Captain 
Yohe  the  day  before  at  Easton  came  back 
into  his  mind:  "No  power  on  earth  can 
save  you  from  the  extreme  penalty  meted  out 
to  deserters  unless  it  be  Abraham  Lincoln 
himself." 

So  this  man  held  also  in  his  hands  do- 
minion over  life  and  death.  At  his  word, 
spoken  or  withheld,  he,  Rhett  Bannister, 
would  live  or  die.  At  his  word,  spoken  or 
withheld,  soldiers  by  the  thousands  had 
given  and  would  still  give  their  lives  that 
his  counsels  and  his  judgments  might  pre- 
vail. What  an  awful  responsibility!  How 
it  must  weigh  on  a  man's  soul!  How  it 
must  sober  him  and  search  him,  and  drive 
from  his  heart  all  forms  of  avarice  and 
selfishness  and  hatred  and  hypocrisy!  How 
could  this  man  Lincoln,  by  any  human 
possibility,  be  anything  but  honest  and 
humble  and  God-fearing,  with  such  an 
awful  load  upon  his  mind  and  heart ! 
189 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

Involuntarily,  as  he  pondered,  Bannister 
had  turned  into  the  park  lying  between 
the  White  House  and  the  War  Department 
and  was  sauntering  leisurely  up  the  path. 
There  was  no  purpose  in  it.  Doubtless,  his 
thoughts  being  upon  Abraham  Lincoln,  he 
was  drawn  unconsciously  toward  the  phy- 
sical abiding-place  of  the  man. 

And  then,  suddenly,  he  became  aware 
that  some  one  was  coming  toward  him 
down  the  walk.  In  the  gray  light  of  the 
morning,  under  the  frost-bitten  foliage,  a 
man,  tall,  bent,  with  a  high  black  hat  on 
his  head,  and  a  gray  plaid  shawl  thrown 
about  his  shoulders  to  protect  him  from 
the  chill  October  air,  came  shuffling  down 
the  path.  One  glance  at  the  uncouth  figure, 
at  the  deep-lined,  careworn  face,  into  the 
sad  and  measureless  depths  of  the  never-to- 
be-forgotten  eyes  told  Bannister  that  the 
man  who  approached  him  was  Abraham 
Lincoln. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WITH    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

SO  this  was  Lincoln  —  the  man  whom, 
lately,  Rhett  Bannister  had  hated 
above  all  other  living  men,  at  whose  door 
he  had  laid  all  the  woes  and  wounds  and 
spilled  blood  of  the  nation.  Awkward,  in- 
deed, he  was,  with  gnarled  features,  un- 
gainly limbs,  and  shambling  gait.  All  this 
Bannister  had  expected  to  see.  But  where 
was  the  domineering  air,  the  crafty  expres- 
sion, the  pride  of  power,  the  ingrained 
coarseness,  for  which  he  had  also  looked  ? 
In  that  ungraceful  form  he  could  see  now 
only  the  human  frame  bending  under  the 
weight  of  a  mighty  responsibility.  In  the  fur- 
rowed face,  drawn  and  ashy,  and  eloquent 
with  suffering  and  care,  in  the  deep-set, 
patient  eyes,  signals  of  a  soul  weighed  down 
with  sorrow,  he  could  read  now  only  the 
story  of  a  life  untouched  by  selfishness,  of 
191 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

a  heart  breaking  with  the  burdens  and 
pierced  with  the  griefs  of  a  mighty  and 
beloved  nation. 

And  with  the  vision  of  this  man  before 
him,  so  intensely  human,  so  pleadingly 
simple,  Rhett  Bannister  felt  slipping  away 
from  him  the  old  hate  and  scorn  and 
enmity,  and  into  their  places  came  creep- 
ing pity  for  the  man,  reverence  for  his  sor- 
row', sympathy  with  him  in  the  awful  bur- 
den he  was  bearing  on  his  bent  shoulders 
and  in  his  mighty  heart,  the  problems, 
griefs,  and  cares  of  his  brothers,  North  and 
South,  engaged  in  fratricidal  strife.  It  was 
all  in  a  moment.  It  followed  one  look  into 
that  infinitely  sad  and  tender  face,  but  in 
that  moment  the  tide  of  feeling  in  Rhett 
Bannister's  mind  and  heart  had  turned. 
Abraham  Lincoln  was  no  longer  the  hated 
monster  of  other  days,  but  a  man,  instead, 
of  like  passions,  cares,  griefs,  and  hopes 
with  himself;  a  man  to  whom  it  was  no 
humiliation  to  speak ;  nay,  a  man  to  whom 
he  would  dare  to  appeal  in  behalf  of  his 
192 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

son  and  himself,  assured  in  advance  of  an 
honest  and  sympathetic  hearing. 

And  what  was  it  that  Captain  Yohe  had 
said  ? 

Bannister  uncovered  his  head,  and  moved 
to  the  side  of  the  path  to  let  the  Chief 
Magistrate  by.  And,  even  as  he  did  so, 
there  arose  in  his  heart,  and  issued  from 
his  lips,  an  appeal  which,  one  week  before, 
he  would  have  scorned  to  make. 

"Mr.  President,"  he  said,  "this  meeting 
is  by  chance,  but  I  beg  that  you  will  grant 
me  one  moment  to  hear  my  case." 

The  President  stopped  and  cast  a  look 
of  sad  inquiry  on  the  man  who  had  accosted 
him.  Doubtless,  he  thought,  here  was  an- 
other father  come  to  plead  for  the  life  of  a 
son  who  had  been  sentenced  to  a  disgrace- 
ful death.  For  what  offense  this  time  ? 
Cowardice,  desertion,  sleeping  at  his  post, 
or  some  other  crime  for  which  stern  war 
demands  stern  penalties?  They  were  so 
common  in  those  days,  appeals  from  fa- 
thers, mothers,  wives,  sweethearts;  and 
193 


A   LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

the  tender  heart  of  Lincoln  was  daily  pierced 
with  them. 

"Well?"  He  braced  himself  mentally, 
to  listen  to  some  new  and  agonizing  tale  of 
trouble. 

"  I  will  be  frank  with  you,  Mr.  President," 
Bannister  hurried  on,  "and  brief.  I  ana  a 
Pennsylvanian.  I  am  what  is  called  a  cop- 
perhead. A  few  weeks  ago  I  was  drafted. 
I  refused  to  report  for  service.  I  have  an 
only  son,  just  passed  seventeen,  who  is  as 
ardent  a  supporter  of  the  Union  cause  as  I 
am  a  detractor  of  it.  Without  my  knowledge 
he  visited  the  provost-marshal  of  the  dis- 
trict and  asked  to  go  as  a  substitute  in  my 
place.  His  request  being  denied,  he  enlisted. 
That  was  four  days  ago.  He  is  now  in 
Meade's  army  in  Virginia.  Yesterday  I  left 
my  home,  hoping  to  reach  him  where  he 
is  and  induce  the  officer  of  his  regiment  to 
discharge  him  and  take  me  in  his  place. 
Before  I  was  twenty  miles  on  my  journey  I 
Was  arrested  as  a  deserter.  The  provost- 
marshal  sent  me  for  condemnation  and 
194 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

sentence  to  the  regiment  to  which,  as  a 
drafted  man,  I  had  been  assigned.  Less 
than  an  hour  ago  I  reached  Washington. 
My  guards  were  drunk  and  asleep.  I 
walked  away  from  them  and  came  here. 
It  is  by  the  merest  chance  that  I  now  meet 
you.  My  boy  is  too  young  to  withstand  the 
rigors  and  hardships  of  the  service.  He 
should  be  back  home  with  his  mother.  I/ 
want  to  take  his  place  in  the  ranks.  Mr. 
President,  I  cannot  hope  to  do  this  unless 
you  will  help  me." 

For  a  moment  the  President  stood,  look- 
ing into  the  eyes  of  the  speaker.  Here  was 
a  new  and  novel  case.  It  aroused  his  in- 
terest. It  appealed  to  his  humanity. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "let's  go  over  to  the 
telegraph  office.  It's  too  cold  to  stand  here. 
I  was  going  there  anyway.  It's  all  right," 
he  added  to  two  guards  who  had  hurried 
up.  "I  want  to  talk  to  this  man.  He's  go- 
ing over  to  the  telegraph  office  with  me." 

So  the  lank,  angular,  shawl-clad  figure 
moved  on  down  the  path,  followed  by  the 
195 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

escaped  conscript,  while  he  in  turn  was 
followed  by  the  two  guards,  who  watched 
his  every  movement.  A  suspicion  entered 
Bannister's  mind  as  he  walked,  that  the 
President  was  leading  him  into  ambush 
to  procure  the  more  easily  his  re-arrest. 
The  re-arrest  did  not  much  matter.  But 
that  any  one,  after  looking  into  this  man's 
face,  should  think  of  charging  him  with 
duplicity,  that  did  matter.  And  the  next 
moment  the  suspicion  was  effectually  cast 
out. 

They  went  up  the  steps  leading  to  the 
War  Department,  and  into  the  telegraph 
office  which  was  installed  there.  Lincoln 
asked  for  dispatches  left  for  him  by  Major 
Eckert,  and  read  them  over  carefully. 
Some  of  them  he  read  twice.  The  inact- 
ivity of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  the  ap- 
parent inability  of  Meade  to  strike  a  telling- 
if  not  a  final  blow,  weighed  heavily  on  his 
mind.  He  had  come  over,  as  was  his  cus- 
tom, in  the  early  morning,  to  get  and  read, 
at  first-hand,  dispatches  from  the  front, 
196 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

When  he  finally  laid  down  the  yellow  slips 
he  beckoned  to  Bannister  to  follow  him. 

"We'll  go  into  Stanton's  room,"  he  said; 
"he  won't  be  here  for  an  hour  yet." 

So  they  sat  down  together  in  the  room 
ordinarily  occupied  by  the  Secretary  of 
War.  In  the  outer  office  the  telegraph  in- 
struments kept  up  a  monotonous  clicking. 
Through  the  open  door  between  the  rooms 
messengers  could  be  seen  passing  hurriedly 
in  and  out.  Lincoln  stretched  his  long  legs 
out  in  front  of  him  and  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  carelessly  combed  hair. 

"So  you  got  away  from  your  guards, 
did  you  ?"  he  inquired.  "  Did  you  say  they 
were  drunk  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  President,  very  drunk.  They 
procured  whiskey  and  drank  a  great  deal 
on  the  train  coming  down  to  Washington. 
When  I  left  the  car  this  morning  they  were 
sound  asleep." 

"  What  are  their  names  ?  To  what  com- 
mand are  they  attached?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  My  name  is  Rhett  Ban- 
197 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

nister,  and  my  home  is  at  Mount  Hermon 
in  Pennsylvania." 
"I  see." 

The  President  rose,  went  out  into  the 
telegraph  office,  and  dictated  a  message. 
When  he  returned  and  sat  down  again  he 
said :  — 

"I've  sent  out  orders  to  have  those  men 
hunted  up,  arrested,  and  remanded  for 
trial.  The  soldier  on  duty  who  shows 
cowardice  in  the  face  of  the  enemy  may 
have  some  excuse  for  his  conduct.  But  the 
soldier  on  duty  who  shows  cowardice  in  the 
face  of  John  Barleycorn  must  reap  the  full 
reward  of  his  cowardice." 

He  set  his  lips  tightly  together,  and  let 
his  clenched  hand  fall  on  the  table-top. 
After  a  moment  he  continued :  — 

"  So  you  are  what  they  call  up  in  Penn- 
sylvania a  copperhead?" 

"I  have  been  so  designated,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent." 

"Yes.    Well,  now,  I've  been  wanting  to 
see  some  of  you  copperheads  and  talk  with 
198 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

you,  and  find  out  from  you,  if  I  can,  why 
you  oppose  the  war,  and  seek  opportunities 
to  stab  the  administration  in  the  back.  I've 
been  wanting  to  know.  Maybe  this  meeting 
is  providential.  Maybe  I  can  learn  some- 
thing from  you  that  will  help  us  all.  I've 
never  run  across  one  of  you  before,  face  to 
face,  like  this.  Vallandigham  's  the  only  one 
I  know  much  about,  and  he's  so  fiery  and 
oratorical  I  can't  quite  get  head  or  tail  to 
what  he  says.  What  is  your  creed,  anyway  ?" 
"I  can  speak  for  myself  only,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent. I  am  of  Southern  birth  and  breeding. 
My  sympathies  lie  entirely  with  the  South. 
I  feel  that  they  were  right  on  every  issue 
between  them  and  the  abolitionists  and 
radicals  of  the  North.  I  feel  that  they  had 
just  cause  to  secede  from  the  compact 
formed  by  the  states,  and  to  set  up  a  govern- 
ment of  their  own  which  should  be  in  accord 
with  their  views  and  policies.  I  feel  that 
the  attempt  to  coerce  them  was  unjust  and 
tyrannical.  I  feel  that  the  war,  on  the  part 
of  the  North,  has  been  and  is  an  awful 
199 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

mistake,  criminal  in  many  of  its  aspects. 
Feeling  that  way,  I  have  done  all  that  lay 
in  my  power,  from  my  home  in  the  North, 
openly,  and  I  believe  honorably,  to  oppose 
the  war,  and  to  weaken  the  power  of  your 
administration.  I  speak  frankly  because 
you  have  asked  me  for  my  views." 

"That's  right;  that's  right.  That's 
what  I  want  to  know.  We  must  be  honest 
with  each  other.  Now,  don't  you  think  the 
Union,  as  it  was,  was  a  splendid  aggrega- 
tion of  states?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Lincoln,  I  do." 

"And  don't  you  think  the  Union,  re- 
stored as  it  was,  would  be  a  still  more  splen- 
did aggregation  of  states?" 

"  I  do,  if  the  causes  of  war  were  removed." 

"Exactly!  We  are  trying  to  remove 
them.  You  and  your  friends  of  the  South 
are  trying  to  retain  them.  If  their  armies 
prevail  in  this  struggle,  the  situation  is  hope- 
less. Nothing  is  settled.  The  Union  is 
shattered.  The  future  is  black  with  trouble. 
If  our  armies  prevail  in  this  struggle,  all  the 
200 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

issues  that  led  to  the  war  become  dead 
issues.  The  Union  will  be  restored  as  it 
was.  The  future  will  be  large  with  pro- 
mise. I  can  see,  so  far  as  my  vision  reaches, 
but  one  end  that  will  bring  permanent 
peace  and  happiness.  We  must  conquer 
the  armies  of  the  South;  we  must  do  it. 
The  life  of  the  Union,  for  which  our  fathers 
fought,  depends  on  it.  There,  I've  said  a 
good  deal.  I  don't  know  that  I've  made  my- 
self clear.  I  don't  get  a  chance  to  talk  to 
you  copperheads  very  often.  I  take  it  when 
I  can  get  it." 

There  was  nothing  flippant  or  sarcastic 
in  his  tone  or  manner.  He  was  frank  and 
plain,  but  in  deadly  earnest.  It  required 
no  brilliancy  of  comprehension  to  discover 
that.  Rhett  Bannister  saw  it  and  acknow- 
ledged it.  He  saw  more.  He  saw  that  this 
man  grasped  the  situation  as  no  man  had 
ever  grasped  it  before.  That  in  his  heart 
the  Union  was  the  one  thing  of  prime  im- 
portance, and  that  his  mind  and  soul  and 
body  were  tense  with  the  desire  and  effort 
201 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

to  save  the  Union.  But  was  he  right? 
Was  he  right  ?  For,  while  Bannister  could 
not  now  but  acknowledge  the  sincerity  and 
skill  of  the  man  who  was  talking  to  him,  he 
was  not  yet  ready  to  yield  his  own  judgment. 
"I  do  not  think  you  put  yourself  in  the 
place  of  the  men  of  the  South,"  he  replied, 
"and  look  at  the  matter  through  their  eyes. 
Consider  for  a  moment.  You  deny  them 
the  right  to  live  in  new  territory  of  the 
United  States  in  the  same  manner  in  which 
they  and  their  fathers,  for  generations  back, 
have  lived  in  their  Southern  homes.  Is 
that  just  ?  They  resent  that  as  an  indignity. 
You  seek  to  compel  them  by  force  of  arms 
to  accept  this  humiliating  situation.  They 
resist.  Why  should  they  not  ?  Finally,  you 
yourself  issue  a  proclamation  depriving 
them,  so  far  as  lies  in  your  power,  of  their 
right  to  own  slaves.  Then  you  demand  that 
they  lay  down  their  arms  in  order  to  save 
the  Union.  Do  you  think  they  can  greatly 
care  whether  such  a  Union  as  that  is  saved 
or  broken  ?" 

202 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Lincoln  leaned  over  and  laid  his  hand 
on  Bannister's  knee. 

"My  friend,"  he  said,  "you  look  at  but 
one  aspect  of  the  case.  I  believe  I  view  it 
as  a  whole.  You  are  sincere  in  your  belief. 
I  concede  that.  The  great  body  of  your 
brethren  in  the  South  are  sincere.  We  are 
both  fighting  for  what  we  believe  to  be  the 
right.  We  both  pray  to  the  same  God  for 
the  success  of  our  armies.  We  could  not 
do  that  if  we  were  not  honest  with  ourselves. 
But  I  believe  I  have  the  larger  vision.  I 
believe  I  see  more  clearly  what  will  bring 
about  the  largest  measure  of  prosperity 
for  all  of  us.  I  believe  in  the  Union  as  it 
was.  I  want  to  preserve  it.  I  want  to  bring 
back  into  it  all  those  states,  all  those  citizens 
who  are  willfully  and  mistakenly  trying  to 
leave  it,  and  to  destroy  it.  All  that  I  have 
done,  I  have  done  with  that  end  in  view.  All 
that  I  shall  do,  I  shall  do  with  that  end  in 
view.  If  I  have  proclaimed  emancipation  for 
the  slaves,  that  was  the  purpose  of  it.  If  we 
must  prosecute  this  war  until  their  last 
203 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

soldier,  or  ours,  is  lying  dead  on  the  battle- 
field, that  will  be  the  purpose  of  it.  I  have 
declared  amnesty  to  every  man  in  rebellion, 
save  the  leaders  of  the  insurrection,  who 
will  come  back  to  us  and  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance.  The  purpose  of  the  declara- 
tion is  to  save,  to  restore,  to  build  up,  to 
make  bigger  and  better  and  stronger  the 
Union  which  has  been  and  ought  to  be 
more  to  us  and  dearer  to  us  than  any  man 
or  body  of  men  that  the  nation  can  produce. 
That  is  my  one  mission,  my  one  purpose, 
my  one  hope,  and,  under  God,  my  one  deter- 
mination to  the  end." 

Into  the  gaunt,  haggard,  ashen  face 
came,  as  he  talked,  the  light  of  the  high 
purpose  that  filled  his  soul.  To  Rhett  Ban- 
nister, looking  on  him,  listening  in  breath- 
less suspense,  it  seemed  almost  as  though, 
like  the  angel  at  the  sepulchre,  "his  coun- 
tenance was  like  lightning,  and  his  raiment 
white  as  snow."  The  mighty  and  homely 
spirit  that  had  dominated  great  minds  in 
this  tremendous  conflict,  and  bent  them 
204 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

to  its  will,  had  already  laid  its  spell  on  the 
mind  of  this  one-time  hater  of  the  nation's 
chief.  Abraham  Lincoln  stood  revealed 
before  him  now,  not  as  the  ambitious  ty- 
rant, the  crafty  plotter,  the  traitor  to  his 
kind,  but  as  the  one  man  of  greatest 
skill,  of  wisest  thought,  of  tenderest  heart, 
of  largest  soul,  whom  the  troublous  times 
had  brought  forth. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  Lincoln's 
words,  as  Bannister  sat  mute  and  thrilled, 
he  felt  that  every  heart-beat  in  his  breast  was 
hammering  down  the  last  barrier  that  stood 
between  him  and  the  personality  of  the 
great  President.  Henceforth,  no  matter  how 
divergent  their  views,  their  logic,  their  ways 
to  conclusions,  in  the  essence  of  a  large 
patriotism  and  a  great  humanity  their  souls 
had  touched,  and  they  were  one. 

At  length  Bannister  spoke.  It  was  his 
last  word,  his  final  protest,  his  weak  clutch 
at  the  floating,  fading  straw. 

"But  the  pride  of  the  South,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent; the  pride  of  the  South!" 
205 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

Lincoln  sat  back  and  crossed  his  legs,  and 
over  his  face  there  came  a  reminiscent  smile. 

"Up  in  Sangamon  County,"  he  said, 
"when  I  lived  there,  I  knew  a  man  by  the 
name  of  Seth  Mills.  He  owned  a  spring 
in  common  with  his  neighbor  Sam  Lewis. 
But  they  could  n't  agree  on  the  amount  of 
water  each  should  have,  nor  how  much 
could  be  carried  away  by  trough ;  and  their 
quarrel  over  the  spring  led  to  a  fight  and 
a  lawsuit.  Well,  when  I  went  up  to  Spring- 
field, the  controversy  was  still  on,  but  Seth 
was  getting  a  good  bit  the  worst  of  it.  One 
day  he  came  up  to  Springfield  to  see  me, 
and  when  he  came  into  my  office  I  said  to 
myself :  *  The  spring  war  has  reached  an 
acute  stage.'  But  Seth  sat  down  and  said : 
'Abe,  I've  decided  to  be  generous  to  Sam. 
He's  licked  me  in  the  courts  of  Sangamon 
County,  but  I  could  take  the  case  up  to  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  and 
make  him  a  lot  o'  trouble  and  cost.  But  I 
ain't  goin*  to  do  it.  I'm  goin'  to  swaller 
my  pride  an'  be  liberal  with  him.  Now 
206 


WITH   ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

I've  proposed  to  Sam  that  he  chip  in  an* 
we'll  build  the  spring  bigger  an'  deeper, 
an'  wall  it  up,  an'  put  in  a  pipe  big  enough 
to  run  water  to  both  our  houses.  It'll  cost 
two  or  three  dollars,  but  I  believe  it's  wuth 
it.  An'  Sam  has  yielded  the  p'int  and  ac- 
cepted the  offer.' ' 

Lincoln  laughed  softly  and  then  con- 
tinued :  — 

"It  seems  to  me,  my  friend,  that  the 
South  can  afford  to  do  as  Seth  Mills  did, 
swallow  her  pride,  be  generous  to  us,  get 
back  with  us  into  the  Union,  and  help  us 
build  it  bigger  and  broader  and  deeper, 
and  wall  it  up,  and  put  in  a  pipe  big  enough 
to  supply  us  all  with  prosperity  and  happi- 
ness and  peace.  Maybe  it'll  cost  two  or 
three  dollars,  but  I  believe  it's  worth  it." 

It  was  not  until  the  story  and  its  moral 
were  nearly  finished  that  Bannister  realized 
that  it  was  about  his  own  old  Seth  Mills 
that  the  President  was  talking. 

"I  know  that  man,  Mr.  Lincoln/'  he 
said,  "I  know  Seth  Mills,  and  I  can  well 
207 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

believe  and  appreciate  the  story.  He  has 
been,  for  years,  my  next  and  most  valued 
neighbor,  a  good  citizen,  an  honest  man, 
and  a  worshiper  at  the  shrine  of  Abraham 
Lincoln." 

"Well,  now,  I'm  glad  to  hear  from  Seth ; 
I'm  glad  to  hear  from  him.  I  knew  he  went 
East  somewhere.  You  tell  him,  when  you 
see  him,  if  you  ever  do,  that  Abe  Lincoln 
sends  him  greeting  and  good  wishes  in  mem- 
ory of  the  old  days  in  Sangamon  County." 

Then  the  light  of  reminiscent  memory 
died  out  from  the  President's  face,  and  the 
old  strained,  haggard,  weary  look  came 
back  into  it.  He  straightened  up  his  long 
body  and  said :  — 

"  Let 's  see.  You  're  a  fugitive,  ain't  you  ? 
a  deserter  ?" 

"Something  like  that,  I  believe,  Mr. 
Lincoln." 

The  President  rose  and  went  out  into  the 
telegraph  office  and  gave  some  orders. 
When  he  came  back  he  said :  — 

"I've  sent  for  Lieutenant  Forsythe.  I'll 
208 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

turn  you  over  to  him.  He'll  see  that  you 
get  to  the  right  place.  Tell  me  again  about 
that  boy  of  yours,  will  you  ?" 

So  Bannister  again  told  Bob's  story,  and 
again  expressed  his  willingness  and  eager- 
ness to  take  the  boy's  place  in  the  ranks. 

"I  do  not  feel  quite  as  I  did  when  I 
came  in  here,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  he  said.  "I 
am  ready  now  to  concede  that  the  quickest 
way  to  permanent  peace  is  by  the  subjuga- 
tion of  the  Southern  armies.  But,  Mr. 
President,  when  the  South  is  beaten,  I  am 
sure  —  I  am  sure  you  will  be  charitable." 

The  President  did  not  reply.  He  had 
turned  to  the  table,  taken  a  pen,  and  begun 
to  write.  When  he  had  finished  he  again 
faced  Bannister,  and  read  to  him  what  he 
had  written.  It  was  as  follows :  — 

"WAR  DEPARTMENT,  WASHINGTON,  D.  C., 
October  26,  1863. 

"MAJOR-GENERAL  MEADE, 

Army  of  Potomac :  - 
"This  letter  will   be  given   to  you  by 
Lieut.  J.  B.  Forsythe,  who  has  in  custody 
209 


A   LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

and  will  turn  over  to  you  one  Rhett  Bannis- 
ter of  Pennsylvania.  Bannister  was  drafted, 
failed  to  respond,  and  was  apprehended 
by  the  provost-guard.  On  his  way  to  join 
the  regiment  to  which  he  had  been  assigned 
he  accidentally  ran  across  me.  It  appears 
that  he  has  a  son,  not  yet  eighteen  years 
of  age,  who  recently  enlisted,  without  his 
father's  knowledge,  and  is  now  in  your 
army,  Col.  Gordon's  regiment  of  Penn. 
Volunteers,  Co.  M.  Bannister  wants  to 
take  his  son's  place,  and  have  the  boy  dis- 
charged and  sent  home  to  his  mother, 
who  is  back  there  alone.  I  can  see  no  ob- 
jection, if  it  would  not  be  subversive  of  dis- 
cipline in  your  army,  to  discharging  the 
boy  and  taking  the  father  in  his  place.  If 
this  meets  with  your  views  I  would  like 
it  done, 

"A.  LINCOLN." 

He  folded  the  letter,  handed  it  to  Ban- 
nister, and  said :  — 

"There,  you  can  give  that  to  Forsythe 
210 


"  FATHER,  WHAT    DOES    IT    MEAN  ?  " 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

when  he  comes,  and  he  '11  take  you  to  Meade; 
and  whatever  Meade  says  must  be  done 
must  be  done.  Maybe  he'll  take  you  and 
discharge  the  boy.  Maybe  he'll  keep  you 
both.  Maybe  he'll  keep  the  boy  and  have 
you  court-martialed  and  shot.  Whatever 
he  does  you'll  have  to  be  satisfied  with  it. 
Well,  I  guess  that's  all." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  took  his  well-worn, 
high,  black  hat  from  the  table,  and  reached 
out  his  hand  to  Bannister,  who  gripped  it, 
unable  for  a  moment  to  speak.  When  his 
voice  did  come  to  him  he  could  only  say :  — • 

"Mr.  President,  I  am  deeply  grateful  to 
you.  I  came  here  distrusting  and  disliking 
you.  I  shall  leave  here  —  well  --  I  —  from 
to-day  I  am  a  Lincoln  conscript." 

In  the  telegraph  office  the  President 
stopped  for  a  few  moments  to  look  over 
late  dispatches,  and  then  went  out,  back 
through  the  park  and  across  the  lawn,  to 
the  treadmill  of  the  White  House,  there  to 
wear  his  own  life  out  that  the  nation  which 
he  loved  might  live. 

211 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

While  Bannister  was  waiting  for  his 
guard,  Secretary  of  War  Edwin  M.  Stan- 
ton,  stern,  spectacled,  heavy-bearded,  came 
bustling  in. 

"Well,"  he  said  as  he  espied  Bannister 
in  his  room,  "what  is  it?  What  do  you 
want?" 

"I  am  waiting  for  Lieutenant  Forsythe," 
replied  Bannister,  who  at  once  recognized 
the  great  War  Secretary.  "Mr.  Lincoln 
has  given  me  this  order." 

As  he  spoke,  he  handed  the  letter  to  the 
Secretary,  who  took  it  and  read  it  carefully 
through. 

"Another  one  of  the  President's  inter- 
ferences! "he  exclaimed  impatiently.  "He 
has  enough  to  do  at  the  White  House.  I 
wish  he  would  let  this  department  alone. 
His  orders  for  suspension  of  sentence,  and 
honorable  discharge,  and  all  that,  in  de- 
fiance of  the  regulations,  are  absolutely 
subversive  of  discipline.  They  are  demor- 
alizing the  entire  army." 

A  young  officer  had  entered  while  the 


WITH  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

testy  Secretary  was  voicing  his  annoyance, 
and  now  stood  at  attention  in  the  doorway. 

"  Here's  another  order  of  the  President's," 
continued  the  Secretary,  addressing  the 
officer.  "He  wants  you  to  take  this  man 
down  to  Meade.  I  don't  know  anything 
about  the  case.  It  ought  to  have  gone 
through  this  department.  I  suppose  I'll 
have  to  back  it." 

He  sat  down  at  the  table,  endorsed  the 
letter  on  the  back,  and  handed  it  to  the 
officer,  who  took  it  and  read  it  carefully. 

"Why  is  it,"  continued  Stanton,  still 
voicing  his  irritability,  "that  the  President 
always  chooses  you  to  send  on  these  irregu- 
lar errands  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  Mr.  Secretary,"  replied 
the  lieutenant,  "except  that  Mr.  Lincoln 
and  I  trust  each  other." 

The  great  War  Secretary  looked  at  the 
officer  for  a  moment,  with  a  quizzical  ex- 
pression in  his  eyes,  then,  without  another 
word,  he  turned  to  his  desk  and  took  up 
again  the  herculean  task  which  as  a  patriot, 
213 


A   LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

as  an  enthusiast,  as  a  lover  though  a  critic 
of  Lincoln,  he  cheerfully  and  splendidly 
performed. 

So  Bannister,  accompanied  by  his 
guard,  went  out,  along  the  street,  across  the 
Potomac,  and  down  through  war-ravaged 
Virginia,  toward  the  camping  hosts  of 
Meade,  toward  the  son  who,  with  a  fore- 
sight clearer  than  his  own,  had  preceded 
him  to  war.  And  as  he  went  a  new  fire  of 
patriotism  burned  in  his  heart,  a  new  light 
of  comprehension  illumined  his  mind,  and 
to  his  list  of  the  world's  great  heroes  was 
added  a  new  great  name. 


CHAPTER  X 

FIGHTING    FOR   THE    FLAG 

FOR  three  days,  Robert  Barnwell  Ban- 
nister had  been  a  soldier  of  the  United 
States.  On  the  evening  of  the  third  day 
he  sat  at  the  opening  of  his  tent  studying 
a  small  volume  of  infantry  tactics  which 
had  fallen  into  his  hands.  Inside  the  tent 
his  comrade  and  tent-mate,  a  young  fellow 
hardly  older  and  no  less  patriotic  and 
enthusiastic  than  himself,  just  in  from  two 
hours  of  picket-duty,  lay  resting  on  a  rude 
board  couch,  with  a  block  of  wood  and  a 
coat  for  a  pillow,  singing  softly  to  himself 
a  rude  bit  of  doggerel  that  had  recently 
become  popular  in  camp. 

"Mud  in  the  coffee  and  niggers  in  the  pork, 
Lobskous  salad  to  be  eaten  with  a  fork, 
Hardtack  buns  —  oh,  but  soldiering  is  fun ; 
Never  mind  the  grub,  boys,  we '11  make  the  Johnnies 
run." 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

After  a  moment  he  called  out :  — 

"Say,  Bob,  here's  a  conundrum.  What's 
the  difference  between  a  bounty-jumper 
and  a  — " 

"Oh,  button  up!"  replied  Bob,  who  was 
studying  out  a  peculiarly  difficult  infantry 
formation,  and  did  not  wish  to  be  inter- 
rupted. 

"All  right!  now  you'll  never  know,"  re- 
sponded his  comrade. 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence, 
then  the  voice  in  the  tent  was  again  heard 
singing  rude  rhymes  of  war. 

"We  are  goin'  to  drop  our  thunder, 

Johnny  Reb,  Johnny  Reb; 

You  had  better  stand  from  under, 

Johnny  Reb,  Johnny  Reb; 

You  will  see  the  lightnin'  flash, 

You  will  hear  the  muskets  crash, 

It  will  be  the  Yankees  comin', 

Johnny  Reb,  Johnny  Reb; 

And  we'll  git  you  while  you're  runnin', 
Johnny  Reb." 

Above  the  tent,  below  it,  all  about  it, 
from  Warrenton  to  Turkey  Run,  was  en- 
216 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE   FLAG 

camped  Meade's  great  army.  There  were 
seasoned  veterans,  raw  volunteers,  con- 
script regiments,  all  accepting  and  endur- 
ing with  philosophic  fortitude  the  hard- 
ships and  vicissitudes  of  army  life.  Here 
and  there  camp-fires  had  been  lighted, 
here  and  there  a  belated  meal  was  being 
eaten.  It  was  an  hour  for  rest  and  relaxa- 
tion from  the  stern  duties  of  war,  only  the 
picket  force  being  thrown  to  the  front  in 
triplicate  lines,  to  protect  the  army  from 
surprise. 

Bob  Bannister  looked  well  in  his  suit  of 
army  blue.  He  bore  himself  with  soldier- 
like precision,  and  a  dignity  befitting  his 
occupation.  Young,  enthusiastic,  good- 
natured,  intensely  patriotic,  he  had  at  once 
become  a  favorite  with  the  men  of  his  com- 
pany. His  every  duty,  performed  with  in- 
telligence and  alacrity,  marked  him  in  the 
eyes  of  the  officers  as  one  destined  to  pro- 
motion. As  he  sat  there  in  the  twilight, 
still  studying  his  book,  an  orderly  ap- 
proached him  and  inquired :  — 
217 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"Are  you  private  Bannister?" 

"That  is  my  name." 

:<You  are  wanted  at  company  head- 
quarters." 

Wondering  what  it  could  mean,  private 
Bannister  laid  aside  his  book  and  went 
with  the  orderly  up  the  company  street  to 
the  captain's  quarters.  Inside  the  tent  a 
candle  was  burning  on  a  rude  table  by 
which*  the  captain  was  seated.  Standing 
about,  against  the  inner  walls,  were  a  half- 
dozen  men  whose  faces  the  boy  could  not 
recognize  in  the  semi-darkness. 

Bob  advanced  to  within  a  few  paces  of 
the  table,  saluted,  and  stood  at  attention. 

"Private  Bannister,"  said  the  captain, 
"I  want  to  know  if  you  recognize  this 
person  ?" 

He  nodded,  as  he  spoke,  toward  a  man 
dressed  in  civilian  costume,  standing  near 
the  entrance  to  the  tent.  Bob  turned  and 
peered  into  the  shadows.  The  man  stepped 
forward. 

"Father!" 

218 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE   FLAG 

"Rob!" 

And  then  Bob  rushed  into  his  father's 
arms. 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  But  the 
soldiers  who  saw  the  meeting  never  for- 
got it. 

"Father,  what  does  it  mean?" 

Bannister,  his  voice  lost  in  emotion  and 
his  eyes  dim  with  tears,  pointed  to  a  paper 
lying  on  the  captain's  table.  He  had  tried 
to  imagine  how  Bob  would  look  in  uniform, 
but  he  had  not  thought  to  see  quite  so 
straight,  manly  a  figure,  clear  of  eye,  hand- 
some of  countenance,  "every  inch  a  sol- 
dier." And  the  words  of  Mary  Bannister, 
when  he  read  Bob's  letter  to  her,  came  back 
into  his  mind  and  voiced  his  sentiment: 
"I'm  proud  of  him.  He's  the  bravest  boy 
in  the  world." 

"Private  Bannister,"  said  the  captain, 
"  your  father  is  here  in  custody  of  Lieuten- 
ant Forsythe  of  the  regular  army,  who 
brings  with  him  this  letter." 

The  captain  then  read  impressively,  with 
219 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

a  sense  of  its  true  importance,  the  Presi- 
dent's letter  to  General  Meade.  When 
he  reached  the  end  and  read  the  name  "A. 
Lincoln,"  every  man  in  the  tent  lifted  his 
cap  reverently  from  his  head. 

"This  communication/'  continued  the 
captain,  "was  delivered  to  the  general 
commanding,  by  him  endorsed  and  deliv- 
ered to  the  division  commander,  then  to 
the  commander  of  our  brigade,  to  the 
colonel  of  the  regiment,  and  in  due  course 
has  reached  me.  It  has  been  endorsed  as 
follows  by  all  the  officers  through  whose 
hands  it  has  passed :  '  If  not  prejudicial  to 
the  service,  let  the  President's  wish  be  car- 
ried out.'  There  is  therefore  nothing  left 
for  me  to  do  except  to  give  the  order  for 
your  discharge,  and  the  mustering  in  of 
your  father  to  take  your  place.  Permit  me 
to  add,  however,  that  we  shall  regret  to 
lose  you.  During  your  brief  term  of  service 
you  have  been  a  good  soldier,  a  credit  to 
the  company  and  the  army." 

In  the  silence  that  followed,  the  captain 
220 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLAG 

half  rose  from  the  table  as  if  to  close  the 
interview.  Then  Bob  found  his  voice. 

"But,  Captain  Howarth,"  he  said,  "I 
don't  want  to  be  discharged.  I  don't  want 
to  go  home.  I  want  to  stay.  I  am  old 
enough.  I  can  march.  I  can  do  picket- 
duty.  I  can  fight.  But  I  can't  go  back  home 
now,  it's  simply  impossible." 

The  captain  dropped  back  into  his  seat, 
incredulous.  Among  the  men  standing 
against  the  tent-wall  there  was  a  buzz  of 
approving  voices.  Rhett  Bannister  put  his 
arm  about  the  boy's  shoulders  affection- 
ately. 

"  You  're  right,  my  son,"  he  said.  "  You  're 
right.  I  should  n't  have  asked  it.  I  did  n't 
think.  I  did  n't  realize ;  but  —  you're 
right." 

Then  Lieutenant  Forsythe  stepped  for- 
ward. 

"Permit  me,"  he  said,  "to  make  a  sug- 
gestion. I  talked  much  with  this  man  on 
my  way  down  here.  I  believe  he  will  make 
a  good  and  earnest  soldier.  The  son  has 
221 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

already  proved  his  ability  and  patriotism. 
Why  not  keep  them  both  ?  I  am  sure  it 
will  not  militate  against  the  spirit  of  the 
President's  order." 

"Right  you  are!"  exclaimed  Sergeant 
Anderson,  stepping  out  from  the  shadow 
where  he  had  stood  dreading  lest  he  should 
lose  his  protege,  of  whom  he  had  grown 
wondrously  fond. 

"Good!"  said  the  other  men. 

"Let  it  be  done,"  responded  the  captain. 
And  it  was  done. 

In  less  than  two  hours  Rhett  Bannister 
was  also  a  soldier  of  the  United  States. 
And  so  he  and  his  son  served  their  country 
in  the  ranks.  They  ate  by  the  same  camp- 
fire,  slept  in  the  same  rude  tent,  and 
marched,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  through  the 
autumn  mists  and  the  winter  slush  and 
mud  of  old  Virginia.  At  Mine  Run,  a 
month  after  they  were  sworn  in,  they  had 
their  first  baptism  of  fire,  and  bore  them- 
selves with  such  coolness  and  bravery  as 
to  elicit  compliments  for  both  from  Cap- 
222 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLAG 

tain  Howarth.  In  winter-quarters,  with  the 
monotony  of  camp-life  and  the  round  of 
daily  duties  pressing  on  them,  their  spirits 
never  flagged.  Both  by  precept  and  ex- 
ample they  radiated  courage  and  cheerful- 
ness to  all  their  company.  When,  occa- 
sionally, a  spirit  of  dissatisfaction  showed 
itself  in  the  ranks,  when  impatience  with 
those  in  command  became  manifest,  when 
poor  and  scanty  fare  and  wretched  clothing 
were  the  rule,  it  was  Rhett  Bannister,  cool 
and  logical,  free  of  speech  and  earnest  in 
manner,  who  moved  among  the  men  and 
counseled  patience,  who  pointed  out  to 
them  their  duty  and  appealed  to  their  pa- 
triotism, and  never  without  success.  "His 
influence  with  the  soldiers,"  said  Captain 
Howarth,  one  day,  "is  worth  a  thousand 
courts-martial." 

There  was  one  time  in  particular  when  i 
murmurings  of  discontent  broke  forth, 
when  the  winter  rains  of  Virginia  were 
coldest  and  most  piercing;  when  food  was 
scarce  and  foraging  forbidden ;  when  Meade, 
223 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

under  whom  the  soldiers  had  fought  at 
Gettysburg,  was  discredited  and  displaced, 
and  Grant,  whom  they  did  not  know,  was 
given  supreme  command ;  when  the  authori- 
ties at  Washington  seemed  stricken  with 
lethargy  and  blindness,  and  the  anti-war 
sentiment  in  the  North,  increasing  with 
dangerous  rapidity,  came  filtering  down 
to  ears  and  hearts  in  the  ranks  not  unwill- 
ing to  receive  it.  Then  it  was  that  Rhett 
Bannister,  the  one-time  hater  of  the  ad- 
ministration, detractor  of  the  army,  de- 
nouncer of  the  war,  went  out  among  his 
comrades,  from  man  to  man,  from  tent  to 
tent,  from  company  to  company,  urging 
duty,  pleading  patriotism,  counseling  pa- 
tience. 

"You  think  you  have  troubles,"  he  said 
one  night  to  a  group  of  murmuring  men, 
crowded  into  a  smoky  tent,  while  the  cold 
rain  dripped  through  the  tattered  canvas, 
and  the  wind  howled  dismally  among  the 
pines  outside.  "You  think  you  have  hard- 
ships and  burdens  and  afflictions  in  the 
224 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLAG 

service  of  your  country.  Let  me  tell  you 
something.  I  have  seen  Abraham  Lincoln. 
I  have  talked  with  him  face  to  face.  I  have 
read  in  his  sad  eyes  and  hollow  cheeks,  and 
the  lines  creasing  his  forehead,  the  story 
of  his  suffering.  Boys,  that  man  is  bearing 
the  burdens  of  this  country  and  the  woes  of 
her  people  on  his  heart.  Every  drop  of 
blood  that  is  shed  is  as  though  it  came  from 
his  body,  every  groan  of  a  wounded  soldier 
is  as  though  it  came  from  his  lips,  every 
tear  from  the  eyes  of  those  left  desolate  is 
as  though  it  furrowed  his  face.  You  can- 
not conceive  the  immensity  of  the  burdens 
he  is  bearing,  or  the  weight  of  suffering 
he  endures.  Yet  he  is  patiently,  faithfully, 
earnestly,  prayerfully,  with  tremendous 
power  of  will  and  strength  of  soul,  press- 
ing on  toward  the  hoped-for  end,  and  by 
God's  grace  he  is  going  soon  to  bring  us  all 
back  out  of  the  shadows  of  war  into  the 
light  of  a  victorious  peace.  Boys,  when  you 
think  you  have  burdens  to  bear,  remem- 
ber Abraham  Lincoln." 
225 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

And  down  at  the  end  of  the  letter  a  post- 
script was  hidden  away.  It  said :  — 

"I've  induced  Mary  Bannister  to  come 
up  to  town  with  Louise  and  live  with  me 
this  winter.  It'll  be  pretty  lonely  down  at 
your  place,  and  I've  got  a  big  house  and 
plenty  of  room,  and  I  want  company,  and 
I  want  her.  She's  such  a  dear,  brave, 
patient  little  wroman,  and  we'll  have  a 
glorious  time  together." 

So,  with  no  disquietude  on  account  of  their 
loved  ones  at  home  on  their  minds,  Rhett 
Bannister  and  his  son  faced  the  enemy  and, 
with  their  comrades  in  arms,  fared  on. 

When  Grant,  in  the  spring  of  '64,  began 
his  arduous  and  bloody  campaign  from 
the  Rappahannock  to  the  Rapidan  and 
from  the  Rapidan  to  the  James,  they  were 
in  the  forefront  of  the  conflict.  Yet  they 
seemed  to  lead  charmed  lives.  Out  from 
the  tangled  depths  and  thousand  pitfalls 
of  The  Wilderness,  from  the  forest  scarred 
and  seamed  across  with  fire  and  shell  and 
bullet,  from  the  ghastly  field  with  its  blood- 
228 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLAG 

soaked  herbage  and  its  piled-up  heaps  of 
dead,  they  came  unscathed.  At  Spottsyl- 
vania  Court-House  and  up  and  down  and 
across  the  North  Anna,  through  all  of  May 
they  marched  and  fought.  At  Cold  Harbor, 
in  the  early  days  of  June,  they  faced,  with 
their  comrades,  the  merciless  fire  of  those 
Confederate  riflemen,  until,  scorched,  win- 
nowed, withered,  the  Union  army,  with  ten 
thousand  dead  and  wounded  on  the  field, 
retired  from  the  hopeless  and  unequal  con- 
test. Yet  father  and  son  came  out  of  it 
without  serious  injury.  Shocked,  sickened, 
exhausted,  they  were  indeed;  scratched 
here  and  there  by  hissing  bullets,  but  other- 
wise unharmed.  Again,  in  the  awful  fiasco 
before  Petersburg,  in  the  crater  left  by  the 
exploding  mine,  hemmed  in,  helpless,  hor- 
ribly entangled,  black  soldiers  and  white 
falling  by  hundreds  under  the  pitiless  en- 
filading fire  of  a  thousand  down-pointed 
Confederate  guns,  even  from  that  pit  of 
death  they  escaped,  wrenched,  bruised, 
battered,  buffeted,  but  whole. 
229 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

So,  through  all  that  summer  they  fought, 
in  the  bloodiest,  cruelest  campaign  re- 
corded in  history,  shallow  trenches  filled 
with  dead  everywhere  proclaiming  the  aw- 
ful sacrifice  at  which  Grant  was  forcing  the 
desperate  and  depleted  armies  of  the  South 
into  their  final  strongholds. 

As  his  officers  had  predicted  from  the  be- 
ginning, Bob  Bannister  was  rapidly  pro- 
moted. For  meritorious  conduct,  for  brave 
deeds,  to  fill  vacancies  above  him  as  the 
grim  tragedy  of  war  played  itself  out,  he 
donned  his  corporal's  stripes,  exchanged 
them  for  a  sergeant's,  added  the  orderly's 
diamond,  and  finally,  in  the  fall  of  '64,  his 
shoulders  were  decorated  with  the  straps  of 
a  first  lieutenant.  When  this  happened  his 
company  held  a  jubilee.  He  was  a  mere  boy, 
indeed,  not  long  past  eighteen,  possibly  the 
youngest  commissioned  officer  in  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac;  but  the  men  of  his  com- 
mand trusted  him,  believed  in  him,  loved 
him,  and  would  have  folio  wed  him  wherever 
he  chose  to  lead,  even  to  the  gates  of  death. 
230 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE   FLAG 

But  Rhett  Bannister  was  not  promoted. 
That  was  not,  however,  the  fault  of  his 
officers.  Nor  was  it  that  his  conduct  was 
not  splendidly  soldier-like  and  meritorious, 
-  it  was  simply  because  he  would  not  have 
it  so.  It  was  after  Cold  Harbor  that  Cap- 
tain Baker  called  him  one  night  to  com- 
pany headquarters, -- Ho warth  had  long 
ago  been  invalided  home,  —  and  said  to 
him:  - 

"Bannister,  I  am  going  to  make  a  ser- 
geant of  you." 

"But,  captain—" 

"Oh,  I  know  how  you  feel,  but  there's 
no  help  for  it.  Brady's  dead,  Holbert's  a 
prisoner,  and  Powelton  and  Gray  can't  do 
the  work.  You  must  take  it." 

"  Captain,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  do  it.  Be 
good  to  me.  I'll  fight  anywhere.  I'll  take 
any  mission.  I'll  face  any  danger.  But  I 
can't  accept  an  office  in  the  army  of  the 
United  States.  I  told  you  this  when  you 
spoke  of  making  me  a  corporal.  I  repeat 
it  now.  If  I  were  to  accept  this  honor  I 
231 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

never  could  fight  again,  I  never  could  look 
the  boys  in  the  face  again,  I  would  feel  so 
cowardly  and  ashamed  and  dismayed. 
Don't  do  it,  captain,  I  beseech  you,  don't 
do  it!  Let  me  fight  in  the  ranks  and  be 
contented  and  happy  as  I  am  to-night." 

And  the  captain  gave  heed  to  his  pro- 
test, knowing  that  it  came  from  his  heart ; 
and  so  he  continued  to  fight  in  the  ranks, 
honored,  trusted,  and  loved  by  all  his  com- 
rades. In  the  midst  of  the  political  cam- 
paign of  '64,  when  the  contest  for  the  office 
of  President  of  the  United  States  was  stir- 
ring the  North  as  no  political  contest  had 
ever  stirred  it  before ;  when  Lincoln's  ene- 
mies felt  that  they  had  won  the  victory,  and 
that  the  battle  of  the  ballots  on  election  day 
would  only  ratify  it ;  when  Lincoln  himself 
gave  up  the  hope  that  he  would  be  per- 
mitted to  lead  the  nation  back  to  peace  and 
safety ;  when  only  the  votes  of  the  soldiers 
in  the  field  could  by  any  possibility  save 
the  day,  Rhett  Bannister  turned  politician 
and  went  out  electioneering.  From  man  to 
232 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLAG 

man  he  went,  from  company  to  company, 
from  regiment  to  regiment,  earnest,  anxious, 
persuasive,  pleading  with  his  whole  heart 
and  soul  the  cause  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 
And  when  the  November  ballots  were 
counted,  and  the  overwhelming  majority 
proved  that  the  people  in  the  North  as  well 
as  the  soldiers  in  the  field  had  confidence 
in  the  great  War  President,  no  heart  in  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  beat  with  more  ex- 
ultant pride  and  unbounded  happiness 
than  did  the  heart  of  Rhett  Bannister,  the 
Lincoln  conscript. 

In  March  came  the  President's  second 
inaugural  address.  A  newspaper  containing 
a  report  of  it  floated  early  into  camp  and 
came  into  Bannister's  hands.  He  read  the 
address  word  by  word,  sentence  by  sentence 
again  and  again.  Then  he  called  together 
the  men  who  were  fond  of  listening  to  him 
and  read  it  to  them. 

"You  will  not  find,"  he  said,  "in  all  his- 
tory, nor  in  all  literature,  a  clause  so  sub- 
lime in  thought,  so  simple  in  diction,  so 
233 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

sweet  with  divine  charity  as  this ;  listen : 
*  With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for 
all,  with  firmness  in  the  right  as  God  gives 
us  to  see  the  right,  let  us  strive  to  finish 
the  work  we  are  in ;  to  bind  up  the  nation's 
wounds;  to  care  for  him  who  shall  have 
borne  the  battle,  and  for  his  widow  and 
his  orphan  ;  to  do  all  which  may  achieve  and 
cherish  a  just  and  lasting  peace  among 
ourselves  and  with  all  nations/ 

"Gentlemen,  that  is  Abraham  Lincoln, 
than  whom  no  man  who  ever  lived  in  Amer- 
ica has  had  a  higher  aim,  a  sweeter  spirit, 
or  a  more  prophetic  vision." 

All  winter  Grant  had  sat  before  Peters- 
burg, grim,  silent,  relentless,  pushing  here 
and  there  ever  a  little  farther  to  the  front, 
seeking  the  exhaustion  of  his  enemy,  wait- 
ing for  the  auspicious  moment  to  let  fall  the 
blow  which  should  lead  quickly  to  the  in- 
evitable end.  To  Lee's  army  looking  from 
the  heights  on  the  tentedv  foe  in  front  of 
them  by  day,  on  the  thousand  camp-fires 
gleaming  there  at  night,  it  seemed  as  though 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLAG 

a  ravenous  monster,  white-toothed,  fiery- 
eyed,  lay  crouching  before  them,  stretching 
out  a  sharp  claw  now  and  then,  waiting 
pitilessly  until  the  exhausted  foe,  weak  and 
helpless,  should  fall,  an  easy  prey,  into  its 
clutches.  Surely  no  soldier,  no  army,  ever 
held  out  more  bravely  against  more  fearful 
odds,  in  more  desperate  straits,  than  did 
this  remnant  of  Lee's  tattered  host,  in  its 
final  effort  to  save  the  Confederate  capital 
from  falling  into  the  hands  of  its  enemies. 
Yet  every  drum-beat  trembling  on  the  soft 
spring  air  was  but  the  knell  of  Richmond's 
hope;  every  passing  hour  brought  nearer 
and  nearer  her  unavoidable  doom. 

Late  in  March  Grant  threw  out  a  force  on 
his  left,  under  Sheridan,  to  meet  and  turn, 
and  crush  if  possible,  Lee's  right  flank,  and 
thus  precipitate  the  fall  of  Petersburg. 
It  was  at  Five  Forks  that  the  two  armies 
met  and  clashed  in  the  last  decisive  battle 
of  the  war.  Overwhelmed  in  front,  cut  off 
from  the  main  column  on  the  left,  borne 
down  upon  from  the  rear,  fighting  twice 
235 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

its  numbers  on  every  side,  the  little  army 
of  Confederate  veterans,  with  a  thousand 
of  its  men  already  captured,  and  a  thou- 
sand lying  dead  and  wounded  along  the 
barricades  it  had  so  stoutly  defended,  broke 
and  fled  helplessly  and  hopelessly  to  the 
west,  only  the  darkness  of  night  saving  it 
from  utter  annihilation  at  the  hands  of 
Sheridan's  pursuing  cavalry. 

But  on  that  field  of  Five  Forks,  after  the 
blue-clad  hosts  had  swept  over  it  across 
the  enemy's  redoubts,  and  only  the  grim 
harvest  of  battle  was  left,  dread  rows  of 
fallen  men  and  horses  struggling  and 
groaning  among  the  silent  dead,  Rhett 
Bannister  lay,  at  the  edge  of  the  White  Oak 
road,  his  shoulder  pierced  by  a  minie  ball, 
his  dim  eyes  seeking  vainly  for  the  child 
of  his  heart.  And  just  beyond  lay  Bob, 
stretched  on  the  greensward,  his  blood- 
splashed  face  turned  upward  to  the  twi- 
light sky,  seeing  nothing,  knowing  nothing 
of  battle  or  victory,  of  friend  or  foe,  deaf 
alike  to  the  dying  thunders  of  the  conflict, 
236 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLAG 

to  the  exultant  shouts  of  the  victors,  to  the 
heart-stirring  cry  of  that  father  who  would 
joyously  have  given  his  own  life  that  his 
son  might  live 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE    GREAT   TRAGEDY 

BUT  Bob  Bannister  was  not  killed  at 
Five  Forks,  nor  did  he  die  of  his 
wounds.  A  fragment  of  a  bursting  shell  had 
struck  his  head,  torn  loose  the  scalp,  laid 
bare  the  skull,  felled  him  with  a  crash,  and 
left  him  insensible  for  hours.  He  did  not 
know  when  he  was  carried  from  the  field ; 
but,  later  on,  he  realized  that  he  was  being 
jolted  over  rough  roads,  that  somewhere 
there  was  a  great  pain  of  which  he  was 
dimly  conscious,  and  that  now  and  then  a 
cup  of  water  was  placed  most  refreshingly 
to  his  parched  lips.  When  he  did  come 
fully  to  himself  it  was  the  day  after  the 
battle,  and  he  was  in  the  army  hospital  at 
City  Point,  one  of  the  hundreds  of  occu- 
pants of  the  long  rows  of  cots  that  lined  the 
walls.  His  head  was  swathed  in  bandages, 
a  blinding  pain  shot  back  and  forth  across 
238 


THE   GREAT  TRAGEDY 

his  eyes,  and  in  his  mouth  was  still  that  in- 
satiable thirst.  On  the  cot  beside  him  lay 
his  father,  who  had  also  been  ordered  by  the 
field  surgeon  to  the  hospital  at  City  Point. 
Those  minie  balls  made  ugly  wounds,  as 
thousands  of  veterans  of  both  armies  can 
testify,  and  Rhett  Bannister  certainly  needed 
surgical  skill  and  careful  nursing.  But  the 
surgeon  who  sent  him  to  City  Point,  and 
who  knew  and  loved  both  him  and  his  son, 
had  a  deeper  thought  in  mind.  That  wound 
of  Bob's,  under  certain  conditions,  might 
suddenly  lead  to  something  very  grave,  and 
—  well,  it  was  a  good  idea  for  the  boy  to 
have  his  father  at  his  side.  But,  for  stal- 
wart manhood  and  clean  and  vigorous 
youth,  wounds  yield  readily  to  proper  treat- 
ment, and,  before  many  days  had  passed, 
both  father  and  son  were  well  on  the  road 
to  recovery. 

Then,  one  morning,  a  strange  thing  hap- 
pened, and,  to  Bob  Bannister,  as  he  thought 
of  it  in  after  years,  the  most  beautiful  thing 
that  ever  entered  into  his  life.  Into  the  far, 

239 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

south  door  of  the  hospital  tent,  accompa- 
nied only  by  a  member  of  his  staff  and  an 
assistant  surgeon,  came  Abraham  Lincoln. 

A  whisper  ran  down  the  rows  of  cots 
that  the  President  was  there,  and  every 
man  who  could  do  so,  rose  to  his  feet,  or 
sat  up  in  bed,  and  saluted  as  "Father 
Abraham"  passed  by.  At  many  a  cot  he 
stopped  to  give  greeting  to  maimed  and 
helpless  veterans  of  the  war,  to  speak  words 
of  encouragement  to  the  sick  and  wounded 
boys  who  had  fought  and  suffered  that  the 
common  cause  might  triumph,  to  bend  over 
the  prostrate  form  of  some  poor  wreck 
tossed  up  from  the  awful  whirlpool  of 
battle.  Soldiers  who  lived  never  forgot  the 
benediction  of  his  presence  that  beautiful 
day,  and  more  than  one  fell  into  his  last 
sleep  with  the  vision  of  the  fatherly  and 
sympathetic  face  of  the  beloved  President 
before  his  dim  and  closing  eyes. 

They  came  to  the  ward  where  lay  the  sick 
and  wounded  Southern  prisoners. 

"You  won't  want  to  go  in  there,  Mr. 
240 


THE   GREAT  TRAGEDY 

President,"  said  the  young  surgeon  who 
was  escorting  him,  "those  are  only  rebels 
in  there." 

The  President  turned  and  laid  his  large 
hand  gently  on  the  shoulder  of  his  escort, 
and  looked  serenely  and  earnestly  into  his 
eyes. 

"You  mean,"  he  said,  "that  they  are 
Confederates.  I  want  to  see  them." 

And  so,  into  the  Confederate  wards  he 
went,  greeting  every  sufferer  as  he  passed, 
asking  after  their  wants,  bringing  to  all  of 
them  good  cheer  and  hopefulness  and  help- 
fulness as  he  passed  by.  One  boy  of  seven- 
teen said  to  him :  - 

"  My  father  knew  you,  Mr.  Lincoln,  be- 
fore the  war.  He  was  killed  at  Chantilly. 
He  said  to  me  once:  'Whatever  happens, 
don't  you  ever  believe  Abraham  Lincoln 
guilty  of  harshness  or  cruelty.'  I  am  so 
glad  to  have  told  you  that,  Mr.  Lincoln, 
before  I  die." 

And  Lincoln,  as  he  pushed  back  the  damp 
hair  from  the  boy's  forehead,  and  inquired 
241 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

the  father's  name,  and  saw  the  death  pallor 
already  stealing  into  the  young  face,  said : — 

"Thank  you,  my  son.  If  I  know  my  own 
heart,  there  has  never  been  harshness  or 
cruelty  in  it ;  there  is  no  malice  or  bitterness 
in  it  to-day.  I  sympathize  with  you.  I  sym- 
pathize with  all  of  you  -  '  he  lifted  his 
head  and  looked  around  on  the  rapt  faces 
turned  toward  him  —  "  the  more  because 
your  cause  is  a  lost  cause,  because  you  are 
suffering  also  the  bitterness  of  defeat.  And 
yet  I  feel  that,  under  God,  this  very  defeat 
will  prove  the  salvation  of  your  beloved 
South." 

And  so  he  passed  on.  When  he  came  to 
the  cot  where  Rhett  Bannister  was  lying, 
he  gave  him  a  word  of  simple  greeting  and 
would  have  gone  by  had  not  something  in 
the  man's  face  attracted  his  attention  and 
caused  him  to  stop. 

"Have  I  ever  seen  you  before?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"Yes,  Mr.  President.  I  am  Rhett  Ban- 
nister from  Pennsylvania.  I  spent  a  half- 
Mt 


THE   GREAT  TRAGEDY 

hour  with  you  one  morning  in  the  Secre- 
tary's room  in  the  War  Department,  in  the 
fall  of  '63.  I  was  an  escaped  conscript  that 
morning." 

A  smile  of  recognition  lit  up  the  face  of 
the  President,  and  his  gnarled  hand  grasped 
the  hand  of  the  wounded  man. 

"I  remember,"  he  said.  "I  remember 
very  well.  And  have  you  been  in  the  serv- 
ice ever  since  ?" 

Some  one  across  the  aisle,  who  had  heard 
the  conversation,  replied  that  time  for 
Bannister. 

"Yes,  Mr.  President,  he  has.  And  he's 
been  the  bravest  and  the  best  soldier  in  the 
ranks,  bar  none.  I'm  the  adjutant  of  his 
battalion,  and  I  know." 

"  Good ! ' '  exclaimed  the  President.  "  Oh, 
that's  very  good.  I  felt  that  we'd  make  a 
good  soldier  of  him  in  the  end.  And,  let's 
see!  There  was  a  boy  whose  place  you 
took.  The  boy  went  home." 

"  No,  Mr.  President,  he  would  n't  go, 
so  we  both  stayed." 

243 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

"The  boy  wouldn't  go  home?  What 
became  of  him?" 

"He's  here,  Mr.  President,  on  the  next 
cot.  We  were  both  clipped  at  Five  Forks." 

The  President  turned  half  round  and 
looked  incredulously  on  the  pale  face  of 
the  youth  at  his  side.  Then  he  took  the 
boy's  two  hands  in  both  of  his,  and  bent 
over  him.  There  was  no  grace  in  the  move- 
ment, there  was  no  beauty  of  face  or 
smoothness  of  diction  to  add  charm  to 
the  incident;  but  Bob  Bannister  will  re- 
member to  his  last  hour  on  earth  how  the 
great  War  President  leaned  over  him  and 
spoke. 

"  My  boy,  of  such  stuff  are  patriots  and 
heroes  made." 

Then,  glancing  at  the  wall  where  Bob's 
frayed  and  dusty  coat  hung  at  the  head 
of  his  cot,  with  the  shoulder-straps  of  a 
first  lieutenant  half  showing,  he  said,  in- 
quiringly :  - 

"That  coat's  not  yours?" 

"It  is  mine,  Mr.  President." 
244 


THE   GREAT  TRAGEDY 

Lincoln  looked  down  again  at  the  boyish 
face  beneath  him. 

"It's  hard  to  believe,"  he  said. 

And  then  the  adjutant  across  the  aisle 
spoke  up  for  the  second  time. 

"It's  quite  true,  Mr.  President.  And  he 
has  splendidly  earned  every  step  of  his 
promotion." 

Still  holding  the  boy's  hands  and  looking 
down  into  his  face,  the  President  said :  — 

"I  thank  you,  my  son.  In  the  name  of 
the  country  for  which  you  have  fought  and 
suffered,  I  thank  you." 

After  a  moment  he  added :  - 

"And,  let  me  see,  there  was  a  mother 
back  there  in  Pennsylvania,  was  n't  there  ? 
How's  the  mother?" 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  waiting 
patiently  for  us." 

"Well,  you're  going  home  to  her  very 
soon  now.  The  mothers  are  going  to  have 
their  reward.  The  war  is  almost  over  now, 
my  boy — it's  almost  over,  Bannister.  Peace 
is  coming,  next  week  maybe,  next  month  for 
245 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

sure.  And  the  peace  that's  coming  was 
well  worth  fighting  for.  I  tell  you  the 
mothers  have  not  agonized  in  vain,  the  dead 
have  not  died  for  naught." 

There  were  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 
He  never  could  quite  get  over  his  pity  for 
the  mothers  whose  boys  had  died  in  the 
conflict,  nor  his  sorrow  over  the  unnumbered 
lives  lost  in  the  maelstrom  of  war.  These 
things  lay,  always,  a  mighty  burden  on  his 
heart.  He  lived  with  them  by  day  and  he 
dreamed  of  them  at  night.  But  now  that 
there  were  to  be  no  more  battles,  no  more 
agonies,  no  more  dead  faces  turned  upward 
to  the  sky,  a  thankfulness  such  as  no  other 
life  has  ever  known  filled  his  soul  and  suf- 
fused his  countenance.  Rhett  Bannister, 
who  had  seen  him  in  the  dark  days  of  '63, 
and  who  had  ever  since  been  haunted  by 
the  inexpressible  sadness  of  his  face,  noted 
at  once  how  that  face  had  been  transfigured. 
Not  that  it  bore  evidence  now  of  pride  or 
exultation,  or  a  selfish  joy  in  victories 
achieved,  but  rather  that  it  shone  with  a 
246 


THE   GREAT  TRAGEDY 

great  gladness  because  the  sufferings  and 
the  hardships  and  the  heart-agonies  of  a 
whole  nation  were  so  near  their  end.  After 
a  little  he  loosed  one  of  Bob's  hands  and 
took  one  of  Bannister's. 

"Good-by,  boys!"  he  said,  "and  health 
to  you,  and  a  happy  home-going.  Some 
day  you'll  come  to  Washington.  Come  in 
and  see  me.  I  '11  be  waiting  for  you.  Good- 
by!" 

He  passed  down  the  aisle,  tall,  loose- 
jointed,  with  ill-fitting  clothes  and  awk- 
ward mien;  but  to  those  two  wounded 
soldiers  on  their  cots  it  seemed  that  a  more 
beautiful  presence  than  his  had  never 
passed  their  way. 

Wounds  heal  rapidly  when  light  hearts 
and  clean  living  add  their  measure  of  assist- 
ance to  the  surgeon's  skill.  And  so  it  came 
about  that  both  Bannister  and  his  son  were 
discharged  from  the  hospital  a  week  later. 
With  the  surgeon's  certificates  in  their  pock- 
ets, they  were  ready  to  start  toward  the 
North,  toward  home,  toward  the  sweetest, 
247 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

most  life-giving  spot  in  all  the  world.  They 
would  not  need  to  come  back,  they  knew 
that,  for  the  war  wras  practically  over. 
Richmond  had  fallen,  Lee  had  surrendered, 
Johnston's  army  would  soon  be  in  the  hands 
of  Sherman,  there  was  no  more  fighting  to 
be  done.  So  they  went  on  board  a  trans- 
port one  day,  and  rode  down  the  James 
and  up  the  Potomac  to  Washington.  It 
was  early  in  the  evening  when  they  reached 
the  city,  and  after  a  good  meal  and  a  re- 
freshing rest  they  went  out  on  the  streets 
for  a  short  stroll  before  retiring.  They  were 
to  leave  Washington  on  an  early  train  the 
next  morning,  and  they  thought  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  it  this  night  in  its  holiday  attire, 
as  it  might  be  many  years  before  either  of 
them  would  come  that  way  again. 

It  was  a  beautiful  spring  night.  The 
air  was  soft,  and  heavy  with  the  scent  of 
blossoming  lilacs.  The  night  before,  the 
city  had  been  splendidly  illuminated  in 
honor  of  the  recent  victories  and  the  dawn 
of  peace,  and  to-night  the  rejoicings  were 
248 


THE   GREAT  TRAGEDY 

still  going  on.  The  crowds  that  filled  the 
streets  were  happy,  high-spirited,  exultant. 
Oh,  but  it  was  a  different  city  from  the  one 
through  which  Bob  Bannister  wrent,  on 
his  way  to  war,  in  the  fall  of  '63!  Then 
gloom,  anxiety,  was  on  the  face  of  every 
person  who  went  hurrying  by ;  despondency 
in  the  slow  gait  of  every  loiterer  on  the 
streets.  And  over  the  head  of  the  Chief 
Magistrate  hung  ever  the  horror  of  blood, 
on  his  heart  weighed  ever  the  apprehen- 
sion of  unforeseen  disaster.  But  to-night, 
how  different !  Some  one  who  had  seen  the 
President  that  day  said  he  had  not  been  so 
happy,  so  contented,  so  tender  and  serene, 
since  he  had  been  in  Washington.  His  son 
Captain  Robert  Lincoln  had  come  up  from 
the  South  and  spent  the  morning  with  him. 
Some  friends  from  the  West  had  occupied 
his  joyful  attention  for  a  brief  time  in  the 
afternoon.  All  who  saw  him  that  day  never 
afterward  forgot  the  peaceful  and  gentle 
serenity  of  his  face.  He  had  said  to  the 
members  of  his  Cabinet  at  their  meeting 
249 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

that  morning,  that,  on  his  part,  there  was 
no  feeling  of  hate  or  vindictiveness  toward 
any  person  of  the  South.  That,  so  far  as 
he  could  control  it,  now  that  the  war  was 
over,  there  should  be  no  persecution,  no 
more  bloody  work  of  any  kind.  That  resent- 
ment must  give  way  and  be  extinguished, 
and  harmony  and  union  must  prevail. 

As  Bannister  and  his  son  walked  through 
the  gay  crowds  on  the  streets  that  night, 
they  heard  people  say  that  the  President 
and  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  gone  with  a  small 
party  to  see  the  play,  "Our  American 
Cousin,"  at  Ford's  Theatre  on  Tenth  Street. 
It  was  a  time  for  relaxation  and  pleasure, 
and  the  President  wanted  the  people  to 
feel  that  he  rejoiced  with  them.  When  the 
play  should  be  over,  there  would  be  a 
crowd  waiting  at  the  door  of  the  play-house 
to  see  the  Chief  Magistrate  come  out  and 
enter  his  carriage,  and  to  show  their  ad- 
miration and  love  for  him  by  cheers  and 
huzzas  and  the  waving  of  hats  and  hand- 
kerchiefs. The  theatre  was  not  far  away,  and 
250 


THE   GREAT  TRAGEDY 

Bannister  and  Bob  thought  to  go  there  and 
take  part  in  the  demonstration.  F  Street, 
along  which  they  were  walking,  was  almost 
deserted.  The  crowds  had  gravitated  down 
into  E  Street  and  beyond,  and  were  throng- 
ing Pennsylvania  Avenue. 

Bob  looked  at  his  watch,  —  the  boys  of 
his  company  had  sent  it  to  him  as  a  me- 
mento before  he  left  the  hospital,  —  and 
saw  that  it  was  nearly  half-past  ten. 

"I  think  we  '11  have  to  hurry  a  little, 
father,"  he  said,  "the  play  must  be  nearly 


over  now." 


So  they  quickened  their  steps.  Between 
Tenth  and  Eleventh  Streets,  as  they  hur- 
ried along,  a  strange  thing  happened.  As 
they  passed  the  mouth  of  an  alley  leading 
to  the  centre  of  the  block,  toward  E  Street, 
their  attention  was  attracted  by  an  unusual 
noise  proceeding  from  the  depths  of  the 
passageway.  Some  one  down  there  was 
shouting  and  cursing.  Then  there  was  a 
clatter  of  horse's  hoofs  on  the  cobblestone 
pavement ;  around  the  corner  of  a  building, 
251 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

and  into  the  light  of  the  dim  lamp  hung  at 
the  foot  of  the  alley,  clanging  up  the  pas- 
sage and  dashing  out  into  the  street,  came 
a  man  on  horseback.  He  was  hatless,  wild- 
eyed,  terrible  in  countenance  and  mien. 
In  one  hand  he  held  his  horse's  rein,  in  the 
other  he  grasped  a  dagger,  shining  in  the 
moonlight  at  the  hilt,  stained  with  blood 
on  the  blade.  Heading  his  horse  to  the 
north,  bending  forward  in  his  saddle,  his 
long,  dark  hair  flying  out  behind  him,  he 
went,  in  a  mad  gallop,  up  the  half-deserted 
street,  and,  before  the  astonished  onlookers 
had  fairly  caught  breath,  he  had  vanished 
into  the  night.  A  half-dozen  men,  strolling 
along  in  that  vicinity,  turned  and  gazed  after 
the  flying  horseman,  and  then  all,  with  one 
accord,  involuntarily  started  in  the  direc- 
tion he  had  taken.  At  the  corner  of  Tenth 
Street,  as  they  looked  down  toward  Ford's 
Theatre,  they  saw  that  there  was  some 
confusion  there.  Men  were  running  toward 
the  play-house,  other  men  were  pushing  their 
passage  from  its  doorway.  There  were 
252 


THE  GREAT  TRAGEDY 

shouts  which  Bannister  and  his  son  could 
not  understand,  but  they,  with  the  others, 
ran  down  toward  the  centre  of  the  disturb- 
ance. Before  they  were  able  to  reach  the 
front  of  the  theatre,  the  cry  came,  loud  and 
clear,  so  that  all  could  hear  it :  — 

"Lincoln  has  been  shot!" 

And  again :  — 

"The  President  has  been  killed!" 

One  man,  white-faced,  bareheaded, 
rushed  from  the  doorway  of  the  theatre 
crying  :- 

"Stop  the  assassin!  Stop  him!  It  was 
Wilkes  Booth.  Don't  let  him  get  away !" 

But  those  who  had  seen  the  flying  horse- 
man disappear  down  the  long  moonlit  vista 
of  F  Street,  knew  that  the  assassin  had  al- 
ready made  his  escape. 

Men  and  women,  with  horror-stricken 
faces,  were  now  pouring  from  the  entrance 
to  the  play-house.  The  street  was  filling 
up  with  a  jostling,  questioning,  gesticulat- 
ing crowd.  "  How  did  it  happen  ?"  — "  Who 
did  it  ?"  —  "  Why  was  it  done  ?"  —  "  Where 
253 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

is  the  murderer?"  — "Catch  him!"  — 
"Hang  him!"  Men  demanded  informa- 
tion, and  action  as  well.  Two  soldiers  in 
full  uniform,  with  side-arms,  hurled  them- 
selves out  into  the  roadway,  through  the 
crowd,  and  up  toward  F  Street.  Some  one 
called  a  boy  and  told  him  to  run  to  the 
White  House  as  though  his  life  were  the 
forfeit  for  delay,  and  tell  Robert  Lincoln 
to  come. 

And  then,  suddenly,  a  hush  fell  upon  the 
crowd.  It  was  known  that  they  were  bring- 
ing the  President  down*  The  space  about 
the  doorway  was  cleared,  and  out  into  the 
lamplight  came  men  bearing  the  long,  limp 
body  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  At  the  side- 
walk they  hesitated  and  stopped.  What 
should  they  do  with  him?  There  was  no 
carriage  there.  And  if  there  had  been,  it 
was  too  long  and  rough  a  journey  to  the 
White  House  to  take  a  dying  man.  Diago- 
nally across  the  street,  on  the  high  front 
porch  of  a  plain  three-story  dwelling-house, 
a  young  man  stood.  He  had  come  from 
254 


THE   GREAT  TRAGEDY 

his  bed-chamber  to  learn  the  cause  of  the 
disturbance,  and  seeing  the  limp  body  of 
the  President  brought  from  the  door  of  the 
theatre,  and  that  the  bearers  were  in  doubt 
as  to  what  they  should  do,  he  called  out 
across  the  street,  over  the  heads  of  the 
multitude :  - 

"  Bring  him  in  here !  Bring  him  in  here ! " 
And  the  men  who  were  carrying  the  body, 
having  no  plan  of  their  own,  knowing  no- 
thing better  to  do,  bore  their  unconscious 
burden  across  the  way,  up  the  steep  and 
winding  stairs  to  the  porch,  through  the 
modest  doorway  and  down  the  narrow  hall 
into  a  small  plain  sleeping-room  at  the 
end,  and  laid  the  President  of  the  United 
States  on  a  bed  where  a  soldier  of  the  ranks, 
home  on  furlough,  had  slept  for  many 
nights. 

And  it  was  there  that  the  President  died. 
Not  in  the  White  House  with  its  stately 
halls  and  ornate  rooms,  not  where  his  labor 
had  been  done  and  his  cares  had  weighed 
him  down,  not  where  his  hours  of  anguish 
255 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

had  been  spent  and  his  tears  of  pity  had 
been  shed ;  but  here,  in  this  humble  home, 
like  the  homes  he  had  loved  and  lived  in 
before  the  nation  called  him  for  its  chief, 
it  was  here,  in  the  gray  of  the  next  morn- 
ing, that  he  died.  And  Stanton,  his  great 
War  Secretary,  standing  at  his  bedside 
when  the  last  breath  left  the  mortal  body, 
Stanton  who  had  known  him  for  many 
years,  who  had  in  turn  denounced  him, 
ridiculed  him,  criticised  him,  honored  him, 
and  loved  him,  turned  in  that  moment 
to  the  awe-stricken  onlookers  at  the  last 
scene  and  said:  "Now  he  is  with  the 
ages." 

Among  those  lining  the  pathway  across 
the  street  along  which  the  President's  body 
was  borne,  dripping  Jblood  as  it  passed, 
stood  Rhett  Bannister  and  his  son.  For 
one  moment,  as  the  moonlight  fell  on  the 
gray  face,  already  stamped  with  the  seal 
of  death,  they  saw  him.  His  long  arms 
hung  loosely  at  his  sides,  his  eyes  were 
closed,  his  countenance  showed  no  mark 
256 


THE  GREAT  TRAGEDY 

of  suffering,  save  that  some  one,  holding 
his  wounded  head,  had  inadvertently 
smeared  his  cheek  with  blood.  They  never 
forgot  that  sight.  They  never  could  forget 
it.  Many  and  many  a  time,  in  the  stillness 
of  midnight,  in  the  light  and  noise  of  noon- 
day, no  matter  where  or  when,  the  vision 
of  that  face  they  both  had  known  and  loved, 
with  its  closed  eyes  and  tangled  hair,  and 
with  the  blood-splash  on  the  cheek,  came 
back  to  them,  with  its  never-ending  shock 
and  sorrow. 

After  the  President's  body  had  passed, 
and  the  crowd  closed  in  again,  and  men 
took  second  thought  and  began  to  realize 
the  horror  of  the  hour,  and  to  rave  against 
the  assassin,  and  those  who  might  have  in- 
fluenced him,  and  while  women,  pale-faced 
and  unbonneted,  wept  and  wrung  their 
hands,  the  soldiers  came  and  cleared  the 
theatre,  and  drove  the  people  from  the 
street;  and  thenceforward,  until  the  dead 
body  of  the  Chief  Magistrate  had  been 
borne  from  the  humble  house  where  he 
257 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

died,  no  one  without  authority  was  per- 
mitted to  pass  that  way. 

Rhett  Bannister  and  Bob  were  pushed 
and  crowded  back  with  the  rest  up  into 
F  Street,  along  which  they  had  been  quietly 
strolling  a  half -hour  earlier,  and  there, 
exhausted  from  the  shock  of  the  tragedy, 
grief-stricken  as  they  had  never  been  before, 
they  sat  down  on  the  street  curb  to  rest. 
And,  even  as  they  sat  there,  men  came  run- 
ning by  calling  out  that  Secretary  of  State 
Seward  had  been  stabbed  in  his  bed,  and 
that  every  member  of  the  Cabinet  had  been 
marked  for  murder. 

"Father,"  said  Bob,  when  he  found  his 
voice  to  speak,  "what  does  it  all  mean?" 

"I  don't  know,  Robert,  except  that  the 
most  inhuman  and  uncalled-for  crime  that 
ever  marred  the  centuries  has  been  com- 
mitted this  night." 

"Father,  I  can't  go  home.  While  such 
things  as  these  are  still  possible  I  would  n't 
dare  go  home,  there's  more  work  for  us  to 
do  yet  in  the  army.  I  am  going  back  to- 

258 


THE  GREAT  TRAGEDY 

morrow  morning  to  join  my  regiment  in 
Virginia." 

"You  are  right,  my  son,  and  I  will  go 
back  with  you." 

And  they  went. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   WELCOME    HOME 

THE  war  was  over.  Peace  rested  on 
the  land.  All  men,  North  and  South, 
were  thankful  that  the  shedding  of  human 
blood  had  ceased.  June  came,  brighter, 
more  beautiful,  than  any  other  June  of 
which  living  men  had  memory.  The  world 
was  filled  with  sunshine,  with  flowers,  with 
the  songs  of  birds,  with  the  flashings  of 
waters,  with  the  gladness  of  nature  and  hu- 
manity. The  last  tired,  tattered  soldier  of 
the  South  had  gone  back  to  his  home  to 
pick  up  the  broken  threads  of  destiny  and 
to  begin  his  life  anew.  And,  slowly  drifting 
up  from  camp  and  battle-field,  the  veterans 
of  the  Union  army  were  coming  by  ones  and 
twos  and  in  little  groups,  some  of  them  mere 
ghosts  of  the  boys  who  had  gone  to  the  front 
when  the  war  was  on.  But  for  every  war- 
worn soldier  thus  returning  there  was  one 
260 


THE  WELCOME  HOME 

who  would  never  come  again.  So  there 
were  tears  as  well  as  smiles,  and  heart-aches 
as  well  as  rejoicings. 

But  the  soldiers  from  Mount  Hermon 
did  not  come  until  after  the  close  of  the 
Grand  Review  in  Washington,  in  which 
they  took  part.  Then  they  too  turned  their 
faces  toward  home.  It  was  agreed  that  they 
should  all  come  together.  And  Mount 
Hermon,  that  had  sent  them  forth  with  its 
God-speed,  that  had  rejoiced  in  their  vic- 
tories and  sorrowed  in  their  defeats,  was 
ready  to  welcome  them  back.  They  were 
to  come  on  a  special  car  that  would  reach 
Carbon  Creek  late  in  the  forenoon.  There 
they  were  to  be  met  by  a  committee  of  wel- 
come, with  a  band  of  music  and  decorated 
wagons.  The  party  would  reach  Mount 
Hermon  about  noon,  and  after  the  first 
greetings  had  been  given,  there  was  to  be  a 
dinner  under  a  great  tent  on  the  public 
square,  the  finest  dinner  that  the  men  of 
Mount  Hermon  could  buy  and  the  women 
of  Mount  Hermon  could  prepare.  And 
261 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

after  the  dinner,  from  the  platform  at  the 
end  of  the  tent,  there  were  to  be  addresses 
of  welcome,  and  music,  and  every  return- 
ing man  and  boy  who  had  worn  the  blue 
was  to  be  made  to  feel  that  the  town  was 
proud  of  him  this  day,  and  honored  him 
for  the  service  he  had  performed  for  his 
country  and  the  lustre  he  had  shed  upon 
Mount  Hermon. 

So,  on  the  day  of  the  arrival,  the  com- 
mittee of  welcome  was  at  Carbon  Creek  a 
full  hour  before  the  train  was  due,  so  fear- 
ful were  they  lest  by  some  unforeseen  delay 
they  should  be  one  minute  too  late.  In  due 
time  the  procession,  half  a  hundred  strong, 
started  on  its  way  to  Mount  Hermon,  the 
band  in  the  first  wagon  playing  "  Marching 
through  Georgia."  All  along  the  route 
there  was,  as  the  newspapers  said  next  day, 
"  a  continuous  ovation."  Farm-houses  were 
decorated,  flags  were  flying  everywhere, 
groups  of  cheering  citizens  stood  at  every 
crossroad.  When  they  reached  the  borough 
line,  they  all  descended  from  the  wagons 
262 


THE  WELCOME  HOME 

and  formed  on  foot  to  march  to  the  village 
green.  Not  quite  as  they  had  formed  in 
other  days  under  Southern  skies,  for  now 
there  was  no  one  in  command ;  officers  and 
privates  alike  were  in  the  ranks  to-day, 
marching  shoulder  to  shoulder,  arm  in  arm, 
in  one  long,  glad,  home-coming  procession. 
But  you  could  n't  keep  those  ranks  in  order  ; 
no  one  could  have  kept  them  in  order.  One 
old  veteran  said  that  Ulysses  Grant  himself 
could  n't  have  kept  the  men  in  line,  there 
was  so  much  cheering,  so  much  hand-shak- 
ing, so  many  waiting  wives  and  mothers 
and  children  to  be  kissed  and  hugged  and 
kissed  again.  And  long  before  the  great 
tent  on  the  green  was  reached  there  was  no 
more  semblance  of  order  in  those  happy 
ranks,  than  you  would  have  found  among  a 
group  of  schoolgirls  out  for  a  holiday. 

Private  Bannister  and  his  son  were  both 
in  the  procession.  Not  that  it  was  Rhett 
Bannister's  choice  to  be  there.  He  had 
thought  to  make  the  journey  back  to  his 
home  quietly  and  alone,  in  much  the  same 
263 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

way  that  he  had  left  it  nearly  two  years  be- 
fore, and  there  await  such  welcome,  good 
or  ill,  as  the  people  of  the  community  might 
see  fit  to  give  him.  But  his  comrades  simply 
would  not  have  it  so.  Indeed,  they  refused 
absolutely  to  go  together,  or  to  partake  in 
the  ceremony  of  welcome,  unless  he  would 
go  with  them.  So  he  went,  not  without 
many  misgivings,  fearing  the  worst,  yet 
hoping  for  the  best.  And  the  best  came. 
His  record  in  the  ranks  had  preceded  him 
long  before.  The  story  of  his  conversion  by 
Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  story  that  his 
neighbors  never  wearied  of  telling.  And  if 
there  was  one  thing  more  than  another  on 
which  Mount  Hermon  prided  herself,  next 
to  having  as  one  of  her  own  boys  the  young- 
est commissioned  officer  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  it  was  on  the  fact  that  Rhett 
Bannister,  the  once  hated,  despised,  and 
outlawed  copperhead,  had  become  one  of 
the  best  and  bravest  and  truest  soldiers  in 
the  armies  of  his  country. 

And  so  Mount  Hermon  welcomed  him. 
264 


THE  WELCOME  HOME 

Nor  could  he  for  one  moment  doubt  the 
sincerity  of  his  welcome.  The  hearty  hand- 
clasp, the  trembling  voice,  the  tear-dimmed 
eye  with  which  old  friends  and  neighbors 
greeted  him,  left  no  room  for  question- 
ings. 

One  block  from  the  public  square  Henry 
Bradbury  came  upon  them.  He  put  his  one 
remaining  arm  around  Bob's  shoulders  and 
hugged  him  till  he  winced. 

:<You  rascal!"  he  exclaimed.  "You 
runaway!  You  patriot!  God  bless  you!" 

Then  he  released  Bob,  and  grasped  Bob's 
father's  hand. 

"Rhett  Bannister,"  he  said,  "I  never 
took  hold  of  but  one  man's  hand  in  my  life 
before,  that  I  was  prouder  to  shake,  and 
that  was  Abraham  Lincoln's." 

Then  when  he  got  his  voice  again,  he 
added :  — 

"Fall  out,  both  of  you.  Sarah  Jane 
Stark  wants  to  see  you  at  her  house  before 
you  go  to  the  square." 

So  they  followed  him  three  blocks 
265 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

around,  and  down  to  the  house  of  Sarah 
Jane  Stark.  She  was  there  in  the  hall, 
waiting  for  them. 

" Bob  Bannister,"  she  said,  "I  love  you !" 
And  she  put  her  hands  up  on  his  broad 
shoulders  and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks. 
Then  she  turned  to  Bob's  father,  and, 
without  a  word,  and  much  to  his  amaze- 
ment and  confusion,  she  saluted  him  in  the 
same  way. 

"There!"  she  exclaimed,  "that's  the 
first  time  I've  kissed  a  man  in  forty  years.  I 
never  expect  to  kiss  another,  but  —  to-day 
—  it's  worth  it.  There,  not  a  word!  I 
know  what  I'm  doing.  Go  in  there,  both  of 
you.  March!" 

She  opened  the  parlor  door,  thrust  them 
both  into  the  room,  and  closed  the  door  on 
them  without  another  word.  In  that  room 
were  Mary  Bannister  and  Louise.  At  the 
end  of  fifteen  minutes,  Sarah  Jane  Stark 
came  back  down  the  hall  and  knocked 
briskly. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "it's  time  to  go  to  the 
£66 


THE  WELCOME  HOME 

square.  You  need  n't  think  you  can  stay 
here  and  make  love  all  day.  And  I  won't 
give  you  a  thing  to  eat.  You've  got  to  go  up 
to  the  tent  and  eat  with  the  rest  of  us." 

On  the  way  up  she  walked  with  Bob.  She 
had  a  thousand  questions  to  ask,  nor  could 
Bob  get  one  quite  answered  before  a  new 
one  would  strike  him  squarely  between  the 
eyes.  But  when  she  said:  "And  where 's 
that  dear  sergeant  who  took  breakfast 
with  us  one  morning,  and  who  could  n't 
say  grace;  what  became  of  him?"  and 
Bob  answered,  "He  was  killed  at  Cold 
Harbor,  Miss  Stark,"  she  was  silent  for  a 
full  minute. 

They  were  just  ready  to  sit  down  to  din- 
ner in  the  big  tent  when  the  Bannisters  ar- 
rived. A  place  had  been  reserved  for  them 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  twTo  and  two  on 
each  side  of  the  master  of  the  feast,  with  all 
the  other  veterans  and  their  wives  and 
daughters  and  sweethearts  in  line  below, 
and  the  patriotic  citizens  of  Mount  Hermon 
filling  up  the  rest  of  the  long  tables. 
267 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

That  was  a  dinner !  In  the  whole  history 
of  Mount  Hermon  nothing  had  been  known 
to  equal  it.  And  when  it  was  over,  and  the 
tables  had  been  partly  cleared,  the  flag  at 
the  end  of  the  tent  was  drawn  aside,  and 
there  on  the  platform  were  the  speakers, 
the  singers,  and  the  band.  A  chorus  of 
girls,  dressed  in  white,  with  little  flags  in 
their  hands,  sang  "America."  There  was 
a  brief  and  fervent  prayer  by  the  old  clergy- 
man who  had  married  nearly  every  one's 
father  and  mother  in  Mount  Hermon,  and 
who  knew  all  the  middle-aged  people  by 
their  first  names.  Then  the  burgess  of  the 
borough  delivered  the  address  of  welcome, 
and  the  band  played.  After  that  the  chair- 
man of  the  meeting  rose  and  rapped  for 
order. 

"Our  young  friends,"  he  said,  "desire  to 
participate,  to  a  brief  extent,  in  this  pro- 
gramme of  rejoicing.  I  will  call  upon 
Master  Samuel  Powers." 

So  Master  Samuel  Powers  made  his  way 
awkwardly  and  blushingly  up  between 
268 


THE  WELCOME  HOME 

benches  and  tables,  to  the  platform.  At 
the  steps  he  stumbled,  recovered  himself 
with  a  masterly  jerk,  and  continued  on  his 
course.  Turning  to  the  audience,  red-faced 
and  frightened,  he  began  to  search  in  his 
pockets  for  something  that  he  had  evidently 
mislaid.  Into  his  coat  pockets  and  trousers 
pockets,  each  side  in  turn,  outside  and  in- 
side, he  searched  with  increasing  despera- 
tion, but  in  vain.  Then  he  tried  the  pockets 
all  over  again,  with  the  same  result.  The 
audience  began  to  see  the  comical  side  of 
the  boy's  embarrassment,  and  half-sup- 
pressed laughter  was  heard  throughout  the 
tent.  Some  one  in  the  crowd  yelled:  — 

" Cough  it  up,  Sam!  cough  it  up!  You've 
swallered  it!" 

And  a  boy's  voice  somewhere  in  the  rear 
responded :  — 

"Aw,  snakes!  Let 'im  alone.  He's  got  it 
in  his  head.  Give  it  to  'em,  Sammy,  boy! 
Chuck  it  at  'em!  Go  it!" 

Thus   adjured,    Sam   advanced   to   the 
front  of  the  platform. 
269 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"I  had  a  paper,"  he  said,  "to  read  from, 
but  I  guess  I've  lost  it.  Anyway,  what  I 
want  to  say  is  that  two  years  ago  us  boys 
had  a  military  company  here.  An'  we've 
got  it  yet.  An'  we're  goin'  to  keep  it.  Well, 
two  years  ago  Bob  Bannister  tried  to  get  in 
the  company  an'  we  wouldn't  let  'im  in 
because  — "he  gave  a  frightened  glance  at 
Rhett  Bannister,  sitting  below  him  —  "I 
might  as  well  tell  —  because  his  father  was 
a  copperhead.  Well,  after  what  happened 
we  got  a  little  ashamed  of  ourselves,  an' 
when  we  heard  how  he  was  fightin'  down 
there  in  a  real  company,  we  were  all  sorry 
we  had  n't  let  him  in.  So  when  our  captain 
moved  away  we  elected  Bob  Bannister 
captain,  with  leave  of  absence  till  the  war 
was  over.  But  somehow  or  another  that 
did  n't  seem  to  be  quite  enough  to  do.  An* 
then  when  we  heard  about  Five  Forks  we 
got  together  an'  chipped  in,  and  our  fathers 
helped  us  a  little,  and  we  bought  him  the 
best  sword  an'  silk  sash  that  Henry  Brad- 
bury could  find  in  New  York,  an'  we  want 
270 


THE  WELCOME  HOME 

to  give  it  to  him  here  to-day.  Say,  Bill 
Hinkle,  bring  that  sword  up  here!" 

Thunders  of  applause  greeted  Sam's 
remarks.  Some  one  took  Bob  by  the  arm 
and  dragged  him  to  the  platform,  and  when 
he  had  received  the  sword,  which  was  in- 
deed a  beauty,  there  were  insistent  calls  for 
a  speech.  Bob  looked  down  to  his  father 
for  help  and  inspiration,  and  as  he  did  so 
the  audience  saw  on  his  head  the  long,  red, 
ragged  scar  over  which  the  hair  had  not 
yet  grown,  and  then  the  applause  was  re- 
newed with  threefold  vehemence. 

Finally  he  managed  to  stammer  out :  — 

"I  can't  make  a  speech.  I'm  sure  this 
tribute  from  the  boys  has  touched  my 
heart.  I  know  I'm  very  grateful  to  you  all 
for  the  way  you've  welcomed  me.  I'll 
never  forget  this  day,  and  —  and  I  guess 
that's  all." 

He  turned  and  made  a  rapid  retreat  from 

the  platform,  while  the  audience  shouted 

itself  hoarse  with  approval  of  his  speech. 

There  was  more  music  by  the  band,  and 

271 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

then  Judge  Morgan  mounted  the  platform. 
He  had  aged  much  during  the  last  two  years 
of  the  war,  and  his  hand  trembled  visibly  as 
he  thrust  it,  after  the  old  fashion,  into  the 
breast  of  his  tightly  buttoned  Prince  Albert 
coat.  But  his  voice,  though  quavering  a 
little  at  the  start,  was  still  strong  and  pene- 
trating, and  no  one  in  the  audience  could 
fail  to  hear  him  as  he  spoke. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  returning  soldiers  of  the 
Union  armies,  ladies  and  fellow  citizens :  — 

"Some  two  years  ago  it  was  my  fortune, 
or  misfortune  as  you  choose,  to  be  present 
at  a  meeting  of  the  citizens  of  Mount  Her- 
mon,  held  on  the  nation's  natal  day,  on  this 
very  spot.  The  great  battle  of  Gettysburg 
had  just  been  fought.  Public  feeling  ran 
high,  the  spirit  of  patriotism  was  at  white 
heat.  It  became  my  duty  to  draw  and 
present  to  that  meeting  a  set  of  resolutions 
condemnatory  of  one  of  our  fellow  citizens 
whose  unpatriotic  attitude  and  open  dis- 
loyalty brought  down  upon  his  head  our 
righteous  wrath.  I  need  not  repeat  those 
272 


THE   WELCOME  HOME 

resolutions  here.  I  need  not  call  your  at- 
tention further  to  the  exciting  incidents  of 
that  day.  Many  of  you  will  remember  them. 
I  will  hasten  on  to  say  that  it  has  been  my 
duty  and  my  great  pleasure  to  prepare 
another  set  of  resolutions  to  be  presented  to 
this  meeting  to-day.  They  are  as  follows :  — 

"RESOLVED:  First,  —  That  the  resolu- 
tions heretofore  adopted  by  the  citizens  of 
Mount  Hermon  on  the  fourth  day  of 
July,  A.  D.  1863,  denouncing  as  disloyal  and 
unworthy  of  citizenship  one  Rhett  Ban- 
nister, be  and  they  are  hereby  absolutely 
suspended,  revoked,  and  made  void. 

"  Second,  —  That  we  welcome  the  said 
Rhett  Bannister  to  his  home  as  he  returns 
to  us  from  the  war,  bringing  with  him  a 
record  for  loyalty  and  courage  of  which  the 
best  and  bravest  soldier  might  well  be 
proud.  And  we  congratulate  him  and  his 
noble  wife  on  the  splendid  service  which 
their  son  Lieutenant  Robert  Barnwell  Ban- 
nister has  rendered  to  his  country  in  her 
hour  of  need. 

273 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

"  Third,  —  That  we  welcome  with  open 
arms  and  thankful  hearts  all  these  soldiers 
of  the  Republic,  who  have  returned  to  us 
this  day  bearing  laurels  of  victory,  and  we 
extend  our  assistance  and  condolence  to 
all  sick  and  wounded  veterans  and  to  all 
widows  and  orphans  through  whose  suffer- 
ings our  country  has  been  saved. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  I  move  the  adoption  of 
these  resolutions  by  a  rising  vote." 

And  how  they  did  vote !  rising  of  course, 
standing  on  chairs,  tables,  anything ;  cheer- 
ing, waving  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  to  ex- 
press their  approval  of  the  resolutions 
which  Judge  Morgan  had  so  acceptably 
framed.  Then  there  were  shouts  for  "  Ban- 
nister! Rhett  Bannister!  Rhett  Bannis- 
ter!" 

At  first  he  did  not  want  to  go.  Then,  as 
the  second  and  wiser  thought  came  to  him, 
he  mounted  the  platform  and  faced  his 
fellow  townsmen.  In  the  beginning  he 
could  not  quite  control  his  voice,  but  it  soon 
got  back  its  old  resonant  ring,  and  then  the 
274 


THE  WELCOME  HOME 

audience  sat  in  rapt  attention,  listening  to 
his  words. 

"  My  friends  and  neighbors,  I  do  not  de- 
serve this.  I  never  dreamed  of  a  welcome 
home  like  this.  I  thought  to  come  back 
quietly,  alone,  and  slip  as  easily  as  I  might 
into  the  old  grooves,  and  I  hoped  that  some 
day,  possibly,  you  would  forget.  But  the 
boys  who  marched  with  me,  fought  with 
me,  suffered  with  me,  not  one  of  whom  but 
has  been  braver,  truer,  more  faithful,  and 
more  deserving  than  I,  —  the  boys,  I  say, 
would  not  listen  to  it.  So  here  I  am,  with 
them  —  and  you.  And  now  that  I  am  here 
I  want  to  say  to  you  what  I  have  had  it  in 
my  heart  to  say  to  you,  night  and  day,  for 
nearly  two  years.  I  am,  as  you  know,  de- 
scended from  the  men  and  women  of  the 
South.  When  the  war  came  on  I  sympa- 
thized with  my  brothers  there.  If  I  had 
been  resident  among  them  then,  and  had 
failed  to  rally  to  their  cause,  I  would  have 
been  more  than  a  poltroon.  I  could  not  see 
that  the  environment  of  a  lifetime  here 
275 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

should  have  led  me  into  wiser  counsels  and 
better  judgment.  You  know  the  story  of  my 
folly.  But,  like  Saul  of  Tarsus,  breathing  out 
threatenings  and  slaughter,  I  came  one  day 
into  the  presence  of  an  overmastering  soul. 
I  went  out  from  that  presence  changed,  and 
utterly  subdued.  I  saw  things  in  a  new  light 
and  with  a  larger  vision.  Not  that  I  loved 
my  people  of  the  South  any  less,  but  that  I 
loved  my  country  more.  By  the  grace  and 
mercy  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  the  good- 
ness of  God,  I  was  permitted  to  fight  in  the 
ranks  of  my  country's  soldiers,  side  by  side 
with  my  son  whom  you  have  just  seen  and 
heard.  I  never  commended  this  boy  pub- 
licly before,  and  it  is  not  probable  that  I 
ever  shall  again ;  but  I  will  say  to-day,  that 
no  knight  of  old  ever  sought  the  Holy  Grail 
with  more  persistent  courage  and  deeper 
devotion  than  he  has  sought  his  country's 
welfare.  As  for  me,  I  am  what  I  am  to-day, 
I  have  done  what  I  have  done,  because  of 
Abraham  Lincoln.  If  you  had  seen  him  as 
I  saw  him,  if  you  had  heard  him  as  I  heard 
276 


THE  WELCOME  HOME 

him,  you  would  have  loved  him  as  I  loved 
him  —  yet  not  so  deeply.  For  my  love  was 
greater  because  he  loved  my  people  of  the 
South.  Doubt  me  if  you  will,  discredit  me 
if  you  must,  but  I  speak  what  I  believe  and 
know  when  I  say  that  the  men  and  women 
of  the  South  have  never  had  a  better  friend, 
a  truer  guide,  a  wiser  counselor,  than  they 
lost  when  the  foul  assassin's  bullet  sent  this 
gentle  spirit  to  its  home.  I  have  done  what 
I  could.  I  have  been  the  best  soldier  I 
knew  how  to  be.  Now  I  am  back  with  you, 
to  take  up  once  more  the  old  life,  and  to  try 
to  prove  to  you  through  all  the  days  and 
nights  that  are  to  come,  that  your  flag  is  my 
flag,  that  your  country  is  my  country,  and 
that  this  home  among  the  Pennsylvania 
hills  was  never  quite  so  dear  to  me  before 
as  it  is  to-day.  I  thank  you.  I  am  grateful 
to  you  all.  Your  welcome  has  touched  me 
so  deeply  —  so  deeply" — and  then  his 
voice  went  utterly  to  pieces,  and  with  tears 
of  joy  streaming  down  his  face,  he  left  the 
stand. 

277 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

The  meeting  did  not  last  long  after  that. 
There  were  more  numbers  on  the  pro- 
gramme indeed.  But  when  Rhett  Bannis- 
ter had  finished,  so  many  were  talking,  so 
many  were  cheering,  so  many  were  crying, 
that  the  chairman  simply  let  the  people 
have  their  own  way  and  finish  as  they 
would. 

It  was  a  happy  supper-party  at  the  Ban- 
nister home  that  night ;  so  like  the  suppers 
in  the  summer  days  of  old,  in  the  years  be- 
fore the  war.  After  it  was  over,  Bob  went 
down  by  the  path  across  the  meadow,  as  he 
used  to  go,  to  see  Seth  Mills.  The  old  man 
had  failed  much  of  late.  Age  was  resting 
heavily  upon  him,  and  he  was  too  feeble  to 
go  far  from  home. 

And  in  the  beautiful  June  twilight  Rhett 
Bannister  sat  upon  his  porch  and  looked 
out  upon  the  old  familiar  scene :  the  fields, 
the  trees,  the  road,  the  clear  and  wonderful 
expanse  of  sky.  But  when  his  eyes  wan- 
dered, for  a  moment,  to  the  shop  and  the 
windmill  tower  crowned  by  the  motionless 
278 


THE   WELCOME  HOME 

blades  of  the  big  wheel,  he  turned  them 
away.  There  were  things  which,  on  this 
night  of  nights,  he  did  not  care  to  bring 
back  to  memory.  And,  as  he  sat  there, 
holding  in  his  own  the  hand  of  the  happi- 
est, proudest  woman  that  the  stars  looked 
down  upon  that  summer  night  in  all  the 
old  Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania,  there 
came  the  well -remembered  click  of  the 
front-gate  latch,  and,  out  of  the  darkness, 
hobbling  slowly  up  the  walk,  came  the  bent 
figure  of  Seth  Mills.  Bannister  leaped  from 
the  porch  and  hurried  down  the  path  to 
meet  him.  The  old  man  stopped  and  looked 
him  over  in  well-feigned  dismay. 

"Rhett  Bannister,"  he  exclaimed,  "you 
blamed  oP  copperhead !  you  skally wag  de- 
serter !  you  deep-dyed  villyan !  what  'a  you 
wearin'  them  blue  soldier  clothes  fur  ?" 

Then,  as  Bannister  hesitated,  in  doubt 
as  to  how  he  should  take  this  outburst,  his 
visitor  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"Well,  Rhett,"  he  said,  "I  forgive  you.  I 
forgive  you.  Where 's  your  hand  ?  Where 's 
279 


A  LINCOLN  CONSCRIPT 

your  two  hands  ?  I  knowed  what  you'd  do 
when  the  boy  went.  I  told  him  so.  God 
bless  you,  but  I'm  proud  of  you!  I'm 
proud  o'  both  of  you!  Bob's  been  down; 
splendid  boy ;  said  I  must  n't  come  up  here ; 
too  fur  to  walk.  I  told  him  to  mind  his  own 
business;  that  I  was  comin'  up  to  shake 
hands  with  Rhett  Bannister  ef  it  took  a  leg; 
ef  it  took  both  legs,  by  cracky!" 

Bannister  helped  the  old  man  up  the 
steps,  and  made  him  comfortable  in  a  big 
porch-chair,  and  told  him  a  hundred  things 
he  wanted  to  know,  and  at  last  he  told  him 
about  Abraham  Lincoln. 

"You  know  I  saw  the  President?" 

"I  heard  all  about  it,  Rhett.  You've 
been  blessed  above  your  fellow  men." 

"  But  you  did  n't  know  that  he  spoke  to 
me  of  you  ?" 

"Of  me?  Seth  Mills?" 

"  Yes,  of  you.  He  told  me  that  story  about 
how  you  settled  the  spring  controversy  with 
Sam  Lewis." 

"No!" 

280 


THE   WELCOME  HOME 

"Yes,  he  did.  And  then  I  told  him  that 
I  knew  you,  that  you  were  my  nearest  and 
best  neighbor ;  and  he  said :  *  You  tell  Seth 
Mills  for  me,  if  you  ever  see  him  again,  that 
Abe  Lincoln  remembers  him,  and  sends 
him  greeting  and  good  wishes  in  memory  of 
the  old  days  in  Sangamon  County.'  I've 
carried  that  message  in  my  heart  for  you 
through  blood  and  fire,  Seth,  and  now,  to- 
night, it  is  yours." 

But  the  old  man  did  not  reply.  Instead, 
his  hand  stole  out  and  rested  on  his  neigh- 
bor's knee,  and  then,  softly  in  the  darkness, 
Bannister  heard  him  sob. 

But  Seth  Mills  went  home  at  last,  and 
over  the  crest  of  the  eastern  hill-range  the 
full  moon  came  shining.  And  then  some- 
thing else  happened.  From  the  shadows  of 
the  roadway  that  fronted  the  house,  sud- 
denly, sweetly,  jubilantly  on  the  night  air, 
came  the  music  of  a  chorus  of  fresh  young 
voices  singing :  — 

"  Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home; 
Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there 's  no  place  like  home." 
281 


A  LINCOLN   CONSCRIPT 

They  were  the  same  boys  who,  two  years 
before,  had  marched  down  the  road  at 
night  singing  songs  of  derision  to  the  hated 
copperhead. 

Ah !  but  those  two  years.  What  may  not 
happen  in  a  time  like  that  ?  What  change 
of  thought,  of  heart,  of  life  ?  What  tragedy 
and  transformation  ? 

As  the  faint,  sweet  chorus  of  the  boy- 
singers  came  back  to  him  across  the  moon- 
lit fields,  Rhett  Bannister  turned  his  face 
to  the  star-strewn  sky,  and  thanked  God 
that  after  the  storm  and  stress  and  trial, 
and  through  the  ministry  of  one  great  man, 
he  had  fallen  upon  such  glorious  days. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


^tlWMBG 

'M  STACKS 

MAY  1  7  1964 

RlOD  LJD 

MAY20'64-5PM 

SFP  1  fi  1978 

BEG.  CIR.  SEP  18  78 

LD  21A-60m,-4,'64 
(E4555slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


M177916 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


